Sucker For Pain
by Astarpen
Summary: She didn't scream, she might have yelped she wasn't sure but all she knew for certain was that her vision swam at the sight of the barrel pointed directly at her. She was going to die, in a desert, alone, probably to be picked apart by wild animals. She was never going to see her parents again, she was never going to see Quinn again, or any of her friends. "Please."
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is an M rated story. That's all I'm going to say about this. Take that however you wish, just don't complain to me about content.**

 **Summary:** She didn't scream, she might have yelped she wasn't sure but all she knew for certain was that her vision swam at the sight of the barrel pointed directly at her. She was going to die, in a desert, alone, probably to be picked apart by wild animals. She was never going to see her parents again, she was never going to see Quinn again, or any of her friends. " _Please_."

 **Song: Sucker for Pain By: Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa, and Imagine Dragons**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Charlie shivered, pulling down her camisole with her zip-tied hands as best as she could. She had no idea how long how she had been in the back of this non-descript white van for, but it felt like hours. She didn't understand how this had happened. She had just been running to the store with her dad, it was something that she had done all the time with him. Watching her father get attacked before she got grabbed—this wasn't normal and she could feel the warm tears making their way down her cheeks again. She was going to die, she was definitely going to die, there was no way that she was going to survive. She was going to be raped and tortured and then they were going to send her body back in parts to her family.

It's not as if they had a problem hurting her, her jaw and stomach still hurt from where the first goon had struck her hard when she had begun to yell for help. Whoever these people were they didn't care if she cried, just as long as she was quiet. Maybe if she was lucky this was just a ransom, and if it was her father would get her back. He would pay anything to make sure she was safe. She just had to be brave, he would definitely save her. Maybe her father was right about the Mexicans.

To be honest, she wasn't sure if they were Mexicans or not, her brain chided her for jumping to assumptions. The men who had grabbed her wore masks and then had quickly blindfolded her. That had to be a good sign, she sighed. She remembered something on one of Quinn's stupid police procedurals that said that if they blindfolded you, they didn't want to get caught. Maybe that meant they would give her back.

They weren't driving on the freeway that much she could tell by the jostling of the van every time they hit a dip. Maybe if she could get away she'd be able to find her way home, or at least find someone friendly who could help her get back home. Maybe she could find an American embassy.

"¿Podemos probar la mercancía?"

Charlie swallowed and even though she was still blindfolded held her chin up high, she was her father's daughter. "I don't speak Mexican." It's brave and stupid and she nearly pisses herself in fear, even though she's pleased with herself for managing to come up with something given the circumstances.

"Si pero date prisa. Ya Casi llegamos."

Charlie tenses up immediately when she hears a zipper being undone and she immediately backs up. Maybe she should have just cried or kept her mouth shut, because it doesn't sound good for her. If she was a ransom they wouldn't do this to her, at least she didn't think so. "Please, no."

The goon laughs and rough hands grip her hair and pull her forward until her cheek rubs up against rough jeans. "Come on Fabray, let's see if you're worth what my boss paid for you."

Immediately she can feel her body tense, she couldn't believe this was happening to her. What did he mean by paid for. Who was paid? She wasn't property—to be bought and sold like cattle. She feels it pressed against her mouth just as her hair is gripped painfully tighter. She tightens her lips immediately, trying to dissuade him from doing anything till a heavy blow upside the head causes her to gasp out in pain.

"Do it before I knock you out and do whatever I want to you."

She gulps and he seems to take that as an invitation. He's rough, shoving it forcefully against her lips. It's stupid, possibly the stupidest thing she's ever done, but she bites down on reflex.

He cries out and hits her along the side of her head hard enough that she sees stars. She scrambles back, not sure what is going to happen next. He kicks out, catching her in the stomach with his combat boots. She feels him grab her by the shoulder and punch her hard, her face exploding as her nose takes the brunt of the punishment.

"Fuck that hurt." The first goon grumbles. "Fucking bitch."

Charlie's not in much shape to do anything more than curl into herself, protecting herself from any further onslaught.

The goon in the front laughs uproariously. "That's what you get for getting greedy. Wait until the boss checks her out, and unless this one becomes hers you can fuck any of her holes anytime you want."

"Yeah—yeah, you're right. Fuck, I'm going to enjoy breaking her in. Maybe turn her out, wonder how much I can charge for her."

Charlie shivers, they were talking about turning her into a prostitute, like it was nothing. Like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. She spits out the horrible taste in her mouth as best as she could and feels another kick to the ribs. She groans and curls into herself some more as the van starts to slow.

"Knock it off, we're here. I see the boss's car, come on let's show her the goods and get out of here. Maybe we can show her a good time when we're done. I mean look at her. Why the fuck would she keep her? Take her and let's show her off."

The sound of the van door opening caught Charlie off guard despite what the man had said and she feels someone grabbing her legs. Before she could kick and try and get away she gets dragged out the van, her back and head slamming against the hard dirt. She could feel the sun beating down on her as she was pulled along, at some point flipped over until she was face down in the desert sand.

She can feel eyes watching her, studying every inch of her even though she can't see her captor. It's the creepiest thing she's ever felt. Gentle fingers tug at the blindfold and she flinches, blinking when her eyes finally take in the warm sun. She takes a quick peek to glance up at her captor before one of the burly goons puts his foot down on the small of her back.

She gasps, but doesn't cry out, not willing to give him the satisfaction even though her sore stomach digs into the hard rocks.

"I thought I said she was to be unharmed." The woman comments, her tone flat and calculating.

"She got out of hand." The first goon explains. "She bit me."

"I see."

"She's a biter boss, you don't want to be anywhere _near_ her till you get someone to break her in. Dangerous," the other man informs her as he digs his boot into Charlie's back.

"And I suppose you think that the pair of you are just the men for the job?" The woman surmises. Charlie detects a hint of danger in the woman's tone that apparently the goons miss.

"Boss, she can be a top earner if you just give us some time with her. Look at her, she'll have a line wanting to use all her holes. You can earn it all back if you want."

Charlie swallowed and tilted her head up, "Money—I can deal with money. My dad has money plenty of it—he can pay you double or triple whatever you paid, just please let me go. I'll call him, maybe we can do this without cops." She looks up as best as she can when she hears laughter from the woman. That wasn't how this was supposed to go.

The woman shakes her head. "Thanks for that, I needed a good laugh after dealing with such incompetence."

"Boss?" Goon number one seems to sense that they are not in their boss's good graces.

But the woman simply ignores him, pulling out a pistol from behind her and firing two quick shots that drop both her previous captors to the ground. "For future reference, I don't take well to having people tell me how to run my business, nor do I accept having my orders completely disregarded. I don't _give_ second chances."

She didn't scream, she might have yelped she wasn't sure but all she knew for certain was that her vision swam at the sight of the barrel pointed directly at her. She was going to die, in a desert, alone, probably to be picked apart by wild animals. She was never going to see her parents again, she was never going to see Quinn again, or any of her friends. " _Please_."

The woman studies her for a moment, "Here are your options. You have three of them, so pick wisely. One; I can kill you right now. The money I paid for you is negligible at best, so I can simply write it off as a loss. Two, I can hand you over to men just like these two morons over here, and have you become my top earner. They'll break you of course, get you hooked on something, cocaine, heroin? I don't know, I don't care to know but you'll do anything for enough money for your next score in a few months. Of course, I've seen what a drug habit does to a person, your looks will be the first thing to go and then I'll have to either get rid of you, or have you turning tricks on the corner of the street. You think your father will let you into his house knowing that you've become a whore for some 'dirty wetbacks'? That you've given birth to some random kid and you don't even know who the father is?"

"My father will pay—"

"No. He won't." The woman sighs impatiently. "No one is coming to save you."

Charlie blinks back tears, even as she knows the truth of the words. Her father wouldn't negotiate with criminals, especially not with Mexicans. Death or prostitution, was that it? She took a deep shuddering breath. "I thought you said there were three options."

The woman tries to hide a smirk but Charlie can see the corners of her mouth tick upward. "You can be my toy, mine and mine alone. You would belong to me, to be used as I see fit. No one but me will ever touch you, physically or sexually. In exchange, I will keep you fed and clothed and you will stay in my estate."

Charlie's mouth went dry, it was prostitution in a different sense, but with only one person. A person who had just murdered two men in front of her in cold blood. "Don't—don't you have other toys?"

"I did."

"What happened to them?" Charlie questions.

"They decided to try and see what perks they could get by attempting to sleep with my men." The woman shrugs and looks at her gun carefully, still keeping it pointed at Charlie. "I don't give second chances," she nods her head towards the dead bodies.

Charlie swallows, "So—uh, what would I have to do as your—as your toy?"

"Massages, foot rubs, sex whenever I want. Don't worry I'm not going to do destroy your body, I treat my toys very well. You might be sore, you might even have welts the next day but there will be no more permanent damage to your body." That was a lie, a small one, but she certainly had no plans to start chopping off body parts.

"I—"

"Tick-tock," the woman interrupts. "Make a decision, I don't want to hear you agonizing about it, simply pick an option. One, two or three the choice is completely up to you, but you have thirty seconds to make the choice before I make it for you."

There was a gun to her head and there were two dead bodies around her, if she got shot now then she'd never see her parents again. If she became a common whore, she'd never get out, but maybe if she—

"There's a gun to your head, remember that and I don't give second chances."

"Three—I choose three," Charlie spits out immediately. It seems like the best chance she has at surviving and maybe seeing her parents again.

The woman pauses for a minute as if trying to judge Charlie's sincerity. After a minute, she clicks the safety back on the gun, and smiles. "Good choice." She studies her new toy for a moment before turning around, clearly bored with the conversation. "Come along, I want to have you cleaned up before tonight," she orders as she heads back to the Land Rover that she had arrived in.

Charlie watched in silence unsure as the door to the Land Rover was opened by a man she hadn't noticed before and the woman slides into the car.

"¿A dónde vas?"

"Home, we're going home—" The woman turns to see that Charlie hasn't moved and rolls her eyes. "I said come along. Are you deaf?"

With her hands still zip-tied it makes it difficult to push herself to her feet, but she finally manages to do it keeping her eye on the man who is still waiting outside the door. He stares back wordlessly but makes no attempt to say or do anything. Her legs nearly give out from underneath her as they shake but she manages to make it to the door of the car without pitching face first into the ground.

"Free her hands," the woman informs the man, watching as he pulls out a huge knife from his pocket. Her new toy immediately falls back on her ass causing her to snort in amusement. She immediately pulls her sunglasses onto her face as she slips into the car. Hopefully her new toy wouldn't be stupid enough to try and run. She had nowhere to go.

Charlie frowns as she stands in front of the open car door, she could practically feel the man waiting for her to try something stupid, and when the woman turns to look at her annoyance on her face, she immediately steps into the car. She would find her way back home, she just needed to be smart, be patient and pick the right moment.

~O~

"Where is she? Where is my daughter?" Judy's voice was rising as the panic set in. She had gotten the emergency call what felt like ages ago that her husband was being rushed to the hospital. She had expected it to be a simple accident and her daughter there to explain, but they had _only_ found Russell, lying in a pool of his own blood. They hadn't even been aware that her daughter was missing until she told them Charlie was supposed to be with Russell. It was her worst nightmare, her youngest daughter, her _baby_ was missing. "What happened?"

"I assure you Mrs. Fabray, we are doing all we can." Agent Schuester assures her. "At this point, we have every reason to suspect that this will end with your daughter returned to you. These first twenty-four hours are critical and we have every reason to suspect that the kidnappers will contact you and your husband with a ransom demand."

"It's already been _hours_." Judy counters. "You haven't even been _looking_ for her."

"We've issued an amber alert throughout the state, we've tapped your home phone in case they call, and we're tracking your daughter's cell phone now." He didn't admit that they'd already found the last coordinates from the phone with no other leads.

"Mom, she's alive. I can feel it, I know she's alive they're going to call and we're going to give them what they want right?" Quinn demands. They had a twin bond, they were identical twins when Charlie was hurt she felt it, she would know if Charlie was dead.

Judy turned to Quinn and grabbed her hand tightly, "Good. And Russell—your father would know what to do. He always know what to do—why haven't we heard anything from the doctors?"

Quinn swallows, her mother looked so lost and with her dad currently out for the count someone was going to need to be in charge. "Have you looked at security footage? Canvased the area? Maybe someone saw something."

Agent Schuester frowned at Quinn, "I assure you we're doing everything in our power."

She glares at him, aware that to him she's just some kid. She can almost feel his attempts not to roll his eyes at her and it pisses her off. "My twin is _missing_ and until she's back here safe you _haven't_ done anything."

He glances at Judy as if expecting her to chastise Quinn, when she doesn't, he frowns. "I will go and check with my colleagues, but I believe we are currently canvassing the area. It was late and dark and they weren't in the best area of town."

"So that makes it _her_ fault she got abducted?"

"What? No!" He assures, taking a deep breath. "I know this is a stressful time but we don't have a lot of answers quite yet. Be patient and let us know if you can think of anyone who may be trying to target you."

Quinn frowned they were stuck with incompetence, "My father is a candidate to become Governor of Arizona, and of course he has enemies. All those damn liberals, who want to pretend that the real problem with this state-with the country isn't the illegals that come in here and they do all sorts of damage to our country. Some of the cartel's have made death threats against my family and where were you? My father got _shot_ and my sister got kidnapped!"

"There was an investigation and we found that most of those threats were found to have no merit. Unless you have a name or a specific threat—"

Quinn clenched her fist fighting desperately against the urge to beat this man in the face. "Well clearly your investigation turned out to be wrong. My _sister_ is missing my father has been shot and brutalized, while we stand here _who knows_ what they could be doing to my sister. Look at the footage, find her, this—this is _terrorism_ plain and simple. They're trying to silence my father and that can't stand."

William Schuester sighed, "What was he doing in that particular area?"

"It's—it's my fault," Judy speaks up. "That's the only place that sells my favorite ice cream—Russell said he'd go get me some and he took Charlie so he could have a chat with her. Her grades haven't been up to standard lately and he just wanted to check in. He's been busy lately and he thought Charlie wasn't working as hard because he wasn't there—oh god. If I hadn't asked—"

"It's not _your_ fault mom. I swear it isn't. They were probably watching the family for awhile now—we need protection."

"Of course we've got officers outside your house, you'll be escorted to and from the hospital and we'll keep the reporters away. Unfortunately due to your husband's political ambition this has become national news. We think it might be best if you and Quinn were to make a statement, pleading for the safe return of your daughter."

Judy swallowed, this happened to _other_ people not to people like them. "Right of course. I uh—Quinn make sure you give this man some pictures of Charlie—good ones. You need to be right there, make sure people know what she looks like. We need to bring her home Quinn—I don't think—what am I going to do if—" A sob escapes from her lips.

Quinn moves and wraps her arms around her mother's shoulders. "We'll do it, I should have some selfies that we took together. I'll make sure they have everything mom, and we'll do the press conference together."

Judy nods and is about to say something when the doctor pushes the door open, "Mrs. Fabray? Your husband's awake—there are a bunch of police officers but he's asking for—well your daughter."

"For Charlie?" Quinn presses, it makes sense that her father was asking for her sister. He had just been _attacked_ and he was worried about her sister. The doctor nods and Quinn exhales, if her father is awake then this would be resolved. Her dad could do _anything_. Charlie was going to be okay, they were going to find her, hopefully before anything bad happened to her.

~O~

' _Soon, we're going to hear from Russell Fabray. He will be making a statement as soon as he is able. Reports are coming in that he was shot, but those reports have yet to be confirmed.'_

A derisive snort escaped Puck's lips as he put his feet up on the coffee table leaning back, a beer in his hand as he eyed the television critically. "This should be good, wonder what the bastard is going to say."

Santana Lopez arches her brow, but Puck shrugs off her disdain which causes her to frown deeply. He's probably the only person in the world who can get away with ignoring her. It didn't matter if she was the heir apparent for one of the largest cartels, Puck's known her since they were both in diapers. It was hard for him to take her seriously when he's competed against in her pee-target practice. While she definitely had a bigger dick than he did, to her irritation he was more accurate. "Will you get your feet off my five thousand dollar coffee table? I know you weren't raised in a fucking barn, so treat my _shit_ with respect." Santana snaps, smacking his feet off her custom table.

 _'Breaking news. Russell Fabray gubernatorial_ _candidate for the Arizona is prepared to make a statement. Stay tuned as abc15 will bring this coverage to you, live.'_

"This _seems_ like a bad idea," Finn cautions scratching the back of his head. "There's a _lot_ of press attention."

Santana smacked Puck's legs, forcing him to move as she flops down on her white couch. "That's the point isn't it? He wanted to be governor so badly and we just _handed_ him the election on a silver platter. It's his race to lose now."

"Well, I always knew he was a bastard, what with his racist bullshit, but selling his own kid just so he can win? That's _cold_. Fuck, selling her to you is probably better than living with that fucking asshole," Puck took another sip of his beer. He turns to look at Santana before flashing her a huge smirk. "Speaking of your newest toy, one where the hell is she? And are you going to fucking share this time? Remember sharing is caring."

Santana let out a harsh laugh and crossed her legs, "I'll keep that in mind if I ever decide that I want to _care_." She scoffs openly at the idea. "But since I don't know where your dick has been, there's no way I'm ever letting you touch what's mine."

Puck shakes his head, "You know we could have a lot of fun, it's not as if the three of us haven't done it before."

Santana waved him off, there was usually _far_ too much alcohol involved and she really didn't want to wake up to Finn's pale ass in her face ever again. "No, she's _my_ toy."

"You weren't always this possessive." Finn notes unhelpfully, unphased by Santana's glare. Even though he might not be able to get away with the same level of disregard that Puck could, he was pretty used to Santana's moods.

"Yeah, well things change." Santana narrows her eyes lowly. She waves her hand dismissively, this part of the conversation is over. "Besides—if you think about it, it's almost poetic justice. Imagine the look on Russell's face when he realizes I've turned his daughter into my fucktoy. Maybe one day I'll fuck her right in front of him, make him watch as I make his daughter moan on my dick."

Puck laughs and shakes his head, of course Santana would think of something that perverted. "So where is she?"

Santana tapped her foot on the marble floors, "Basement. She's in the suite." She replies simply, not really needing to explain further. The entire basement floor of her estate had been converted into a suite for her to break in her new toys and for them to gain her trust. In the past, she's later let her pets roam the estate freely, after all it's not as though there is anywhere else for them to go. "She's with Sebastian, he's getting her ready for me."

"You're starting her tattoo tonight?" Finn asked, it was rather soon. The tattoo was his least favorite part, and even though he didn't have to _watch_ he liked to be far away when they brought out the needles.

"Of course not, you know how Sebastian is. He doesn't do the same tattoo twice, so he's going to design something that suits her personality." Santana smirks when she realizes why he asked. "But don't worry you big ass baby, I'll let you know when he's doing it so you don't have to wet yourself in fear."

"I just don't like needles is all," Finn mutters under his breath and turns back to the television tilting his head and pointing to the screen. "Who the fuck is that?"

Santana glanced at the screen, "Quinn Fabray, I think. Identical twins, I asked for both but I was told I could only have one. Shame," Santana shrugged it off pulling out her phone so she could check in on her new toy. She smirks when she finds the camera with the best angle, watching the blonde inspect the perimeter of her suite. "The last one was crying by this time."

"Your last toy was _insane_." Puck reminds her.

Still, Santana watched fondly. Maybe this would be more fun than she expected. "That was part of her charm. Though I hope this one lasts longer." Santana closes the camera and looks at them, "I think it's time that you two leave. I think I've kept her waiting long enough."

Puck smirks and Finn rolls his eyes but both get up to leave. "Have fun!" Puck sing-songs.

"That's the plan," Santana pushes herself up off the couch. Hopefully Santana had made sure that Charlie couldn't get pregnant. The last thing she wanted was to have to wear a condom. It would certainly ruin her fun for the evening. She turns noticing that Puck and Finn seem to be dragging their feet. "I said get the hell out. I've got shit to do before I plan on heading down there." Her harsh finally manages to snap them into gear as they quickly make their way out of her estate. She exhales slowly before heading to the door to the basement, opening a secret panel on the wall beside the entrance. Punching in the passcode she watches as the door swings open and she takes a step inside, making sure to close the door behind her.

Charlie jumped at the new sound, spinning around guiltily she backs up a little, putting space between her and the woman who still hasn't identified herself. She gulps nervously, not really sure what she's supposed to say or do in this situation. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Whatever I want." Santana says simply. She's not in the mood to answer questions or coddle this girl who is far older than Santana was when Santana entered the business.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie's eyes slowly opened as she turned over to avoid the harsh sunlight hitting her face. She groans into her pillow, her body aching from her activities the previous night. She was certain that for the umpteenth time she had dried cum on her body, just like she was certain that there was cum leaking out of her body. It had become like a routine for her.

She shifts on the damp sheets, and tries, once again, to calculate how long she's been stuck in this basement. It was like _every_ morning, she'd go shower and by the time she was finished her sheets would have been changed and there would be a plate of breakfast waiting for her. The isolation was the worst part about this whole experience. Even when she caught one of the workers down here cleaning her room, they didn't say a word. It was highly probable that they didn't speak English or maybe it was simply that they were given explicit instructions _not_ to talk to her.

Of course then there was Sebastian, he spoke to her. Well, he spoke at her. He told her what was expected of her, how she was supposed to keep herself smooth, how her hygiene was never to waver. He had also been the one to strap her to the bed before giving her a tattoo. She traced the design on her chest, it was a simple heart with little devil horns and wings attached, however it was the devil's tail trailing from the heart that wrapped around itself almost creating an infinity symbol that made her frown with distaste. She knew what the mark meant, that she was owned, that she was _her_ property.

She looks up her body tensing as the door to her suite opens up, it was unusual for anyone to be here this early. She was used to waiting around by herself for hours before anyone ever seemed to remember her.

Sebastian strode into the room sniffing disgustedly at the overpowering smell of sex in the room. "Gross. You haven't showered yet."

Charlie frowned at his arrival and made an attempt to cover her nakedness as best as she could with the blanket. It didn't matter that she hadn't had any clothes since she had arrived being naked in front of other people still bothered her.

"Aren't you the lucky one? She has the day off and wishes to spend it by the pool, which means you're finally allowed to step outside." Sebastian explains holding out what appeared to be a bikini, or something that _barely_ passed as a swimsuit.

"Lucky me." She scoffs, taking the scrap of clothing between two of her fingers. Her father would have killed her if he ever caught her in something so scandalous.

As if reading her thoughts, Sebastian frowns. "You know that no one is coming for you, right? No one is looking for you and most people think you're _dead_."

She doesn't say anything as she looks at the white fabric, if it got wet she was sure that it would be see-through. She doesn't want to give Sebastian the satisfaction of seeing her break down into tears. He's right, no one would be looking for her. The trail was probably cold and the police had moved on to other things.

"Go shower, and while you do that think about this for a moment. She's letting you up there, which means that you've earned her trust to some degree. If you attempt to escape, I'm sure she can easily have you replaced with that identical twin of yours." Sebastian smirks, watching as Charlie's body goes rigid, hopefully that would keep her relatively docile. There's a resigned look on her face and he watches her head to the small ensuite bathroom. "Oh and if you think that killing her will make a difference? Well—her father will gut your family like pigs and put their heads on a spike before you can even return home."

Charlie stares at him for a moment, his tone is cheery and he has a pleased smile on his face that is downright disturbing. She exhales slowly before simply heading to the ensuite, it doesn't have a lock on it and she steps into the shower letting the hot water cascade over her body. She's glad that she at least has _this_ , hot showers where she can scrub herself raw at least until the water runs cold. She begins her usual process of cleaning herself up and washing her hair.

She frowns when she finds a clump of hair, and sighs inwardly, dried cum probably. "She really does have the worst aim," Charlie muttered under her breath as she finished washing her hair. She frowns she's going to need a haircut soon but she doesn't know who to ask and she was aware that she wasn't allowed to have sharp objects anywhere near her. She had tried to hide a fork once and that hadn't gone well for her.

"God, do all women take this long to get ready?" Sebastian demands entering the bathroom. He doesn't blink when Charlie shouts in surprise and throws a bottle at his head. "Hurry up. She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

The statement was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Well then tell her to stop leaving me a mess." For god knows how long she's been pushed around and used and discarded, and she might not be able to fight back without getting savagely beaten down but she's not going to mind her tongue anymore. At least not with Sebastian who simply raises a brow in shock. "Get out and let me get ready." She insists.

"Interesting." Sebastian smirks, "I guess Barbie Fuck-Toy has some brains after all."

Charlie scowls. "I'm not moving until you get out of here." Refusing to comply completely would be a waste of time and they both know it, but maybe she can assert a little bit of control over her life. It wasn't much, but it was all she had.

"Then maybe you should get ready _faster_ and I wouldn't have had to come in here at all." Sebastian retorts, even though he backs up and gives Charlie her space. Maybe she wasn't completely useless after all.

She's not ready to test him and see just how long she has to take before he assumes the worst and has someone drag her out of the shower. She has no doubt that such defiance would result in losing the privilege of any article of clothing at all. So she finishes her shower quickly, taking special care to work the cum clump out completely before stepping out and toweling herself off.

Sure enough, the bikini barely covers her tits and she wonders why anyone in the world would willingly wear something this uncomfortable. She feels like it gives her a permanent wedgie and longs for something looser, even though she knows that wishing is a waste of time. She wishes that she isn't a sex slave, but that hadn't happened yet. "I'm ready," she mutters refusing to meet Sebastian's eyes.

Sebastian frowns, "I told her that you don't have the body to pull that off. Look at you, barely any tits to begin with." Charlie turned a deep red at the statement and he shakes his head. "I'll make sure you have some sunscreen; you seem like you'll burn otherwise. Come along and don't be stupid."

Charlie glances down at herself, it's not like she would have picked something like this for herself anyway. She felt like a dress-up doll, and the whole thing irritated her. "Right," she mutters.

Sebastian watches her carefully for a moment, before turning around and walking out of the suite. It takes a moment before he hears her shuffling along and he opens the door for her. "I don't have to tell you to not piss her off, she doesn't get many days to lounge about. I'm sure you'll have a few interruptions from her associates, nevermind the voyeurs waiting around for a free show. Whatever you do don't embarrass her."

Charlie frowned and for the first time studied her surroundings, "Because owning a sex slave isn't an embarrassment. I don't understand why I'm even here, she's pretty enough she can't find willing partners. Is it because of her dick?" The blow to her face comes fast and nearly sends her crashing into the marble floors. She immediately grabs her face, she hadn't seen the backhand coming and she hadn't been prepared for it. Sebastian wasn't the person to get his hands dirty and she looks up at him in shock.

"Don't you _ever_ insult her like that in my presence. If you think _that_ was bad, just try to talk like that to anyone else here. You'll be dead and your family skinned alive before you can even blink." He threatened lowly. "You're the one that made the choice, and if you change your mind I'm sure Santana would be happy to either kill you where you stand or hand you over to some pimp who will pump you full of a cocktail so strong you'll be strung out for weeks." Sebastian inhales trying to calm himself down before turning back around. "Now get up and follow me." He doesn't wait for her and he certainly doesn't help her up.

Her cheek burns, but she gets up and follows him before he can get too far ahead of her. She doesn't know the maze that will greet her, but she's glad as they weave through staircases and various rooms that she made that choice. They pass various burley men that she assumes are security guards almost continuously, but none of them give her a second look. The only time Sebastian glances behind him is when he pauses in front of huge glass doors that lead outside. He smirks, "Oh good. You can be trained. Remember."

She nods and follows him outside, blinking at the warm sunlight that's so bright it almost hurts her eyes.

Santana glanced up from where she was reading on her tablet, sipping on what appeared to be a pina colada. "Took you long enough Sebastian," she bitches at him as she flips up her sunglasses. Her eyes fall on Charlie after she finishes bitching at Sebastian. "Come here," she orders.

Charlie hesitates for a moment before she stumbles forward, walking forward to Santana while rubbing her arms nervously. She looks around, the pool is nice and she'd kill for a small dip in the pool, maybe swim a few laps and stretch her muscles out.

"Do you need sunscreen?"

"Yes, I do." She waits a beat and then decides to throw caution to the wind. "Santana."

Santana arches her brow, surprised. She had given her people the same instructions they received with other toys—she loved the psychological torture that came along with not even being able to call her by name. She glares at Sebastian who holds up his palms defensively, looking just as surprised as she felt. Her annoyance was only hampered by the fact that she enjoyed how Charlie said it.

Charlie shifts looking at the sunscreen, she really didn't want to have to deal with a sunburn on top of everything else she had to deal with. "Can I?"

Santana nods, and points to the chaise lounge beside her. "I'll help."

Of course she would, suddenly the idea of being burnt doesn't seem as bad but she complies anyway. Santana takes the bottle, squirting a generous portion onto her hand before she begins to apply it to Charlie's shoulders. It should make her skin crawl, burn at the touch, but it doesn't. Santana's hands are soft and gentle and she has a tough time reconciling these manicured hands with the villain that keeps her captive. She closes her eyes when Santana undoes the top of her _'bathing suit'_ and continues her ministrations.

"I wouldn't want you to get tan lines."

"Wouldn't want that." Charlie agrees. She doesn't shudder when Santana cups her breast, frowning when she realizes that her body isn't responding the way she expects it should. She should be used to this by now, but this was different from the usual roughness, she could almost come to enjoy it.

Santana works her way down groping Charlie's exposed ass firmly rubbing the sunscreen against it. She's already turned on and it's torture to simply continue, but if her toy got a sunburn then she wouldn't be able to use her. She wasn't interested in sleeping with a lobster. "How are you enjoying your accommodations? Do you need anything?"

Charlie goes to shake her head before stopping herself. She's so _bored_ and if she has to spend the rest of her life in a huge room with a spa-like bathroom, maybe she should make the best of it. "Some books?"

Santana watches her closely, almost waiting for her to change her mind before smiling softly. "Sure. What do you read? Twilight?" She says the first book that comes to mind for teenagers. Charlie might nearly be an adult, but she had learned not to hold too high of expectations when it comes to her toys.

Charlie pulls a face, following Santana's guidance and turning in place so that she's almost straddling her captor. "Gross. No."

"Then maybe the classics? Count of Monte Cristo? Or Canterbury Tales?" Santana guesses.

Charlie's cheeks flush a light pink. "I was working my way through Watchmen right now, but those books are okay too," she mumbles.

Santana raises a brow, as she grinds herself into her toy to relieve some pressure. "I don't think I've heard of that one. Who wrote it? And what's it about?"

"Uh—you can just get me one of those, that's fine."

Santana frowns and pinches Charlie's exposed nipple, twisting it and causing her to cry out. "I asked a question."

"It's a graphic novel by Alan Moore," Charlie answers and feels the pressure lessen immediately. Her face is red as she notices that there are people milling about. "It's sort of about super-heroes."

"A graphic novel is like a comic book?" Santana clarifies. It's a little refreshing that her toy could surprise her like this.

"Yeah," Charlie mumbles and looks away, her face turning a deeper shade of red. Why did she care? Why was she ashamed about _this_ aspect of her life? She swallows as she feels Santana grip her bottoms and pull them away so she can have easier access. So much for a simple conversation. She'd rather look at anything other than Santana's face right now as she feels the stretch of Santana pushing inside of her.

" _Fuck_ are you always so fucking tight?" Santana hisses mostly to herself pleased with how today was going.

Charlie bit her lip and looked away. Santana doesn't notice her discomfort let alone even care, at least her body is getting used to it. She just wished her mind would catch up. She notices a guy approaching and almost feels a surge of gratitude at the potential interruption. Maybe she could get a bit of reprieve to collect herself when she notices that his hand moving to the holster on his waist. It's not until he pulls the weapon that Charlie reacts gripping Santana and pulling her off the beach chair and onto the hard ground, just as the man opens fire at where they had just been.

Before he can turn on them again, Santana's guards scramble and security pounces on the man, wrestling him to the ground knocking the gun from his hand. The sound of another shot rings out, but once she's certain that there won't be any errant bullets, Santana jumps up fury etched onto her face. "How the _fuck_ did he get that close?" She barks to no one in particular. She had just been caught with her pants down _literally_. She's about to turn to the man and find out _who_ hired him when she notices a pool of blood that doesn't seem to be coming from her attacker and she turns immediately to her toy only to freeze at the sight of a gun being pointed at her for the second time that day. It's not something that she has ever taken lightly, and twice in one day isn't something she wants to become accustomed to.

The closest guard trains his gun on Charlie but Santana waves him away. "Don't move." She cautions him. She's curious to see how this will turn out. She's been impressed with her toy thus far and she wonders what she'll do. In the excitement she hadn't even noticed her piece was missing. She's surprised at how steady her toy's hands are, and stares at Charlie expectantly. "Well, go on then. If you're going to do it, now is your chance."

There's a part of Charlie that's _dreamed_ of this moment, but something makes her stop. Sebastian's threats are still ringing in her ears and she knows he wouldn't bother to make idle threats. But the opportunity for escape and revenge may never present itself again. Is what could happen to her mom and dad—to _Quinn_ —worth it? At least she knows what to expect with Santana who has always been painfully honest with her. She's not sure she wants to know what would happen if she pulls the trigger. Her hands shake for a moment and she can feel her vision blur, whether that's from the tears or the pain that's radiating from her arm, she's not a hundred percent sure, but she knows that she can't put them at risk. She stares at the ground, unable to look Santana in the eye as she tosses the gun into the pool. It would probably be her only chance at revenge but she couldn't take that chance, she couldn't be the one responsible for anything happening to her family. She exhales noisily as she realizes that she had just pointed a gun to Santana's head. There would most likely be consequences. Maybe _now_ they'd put her out of her misery. No one was coming for her and _maybe_ she should have chosen to die.

Before Santana can say anything her security is immediately on top of Charlie slamming her hard into the ground. Her toy had just saved her life, she had also just threatened it. Something—probably common sense had stopped her. It left her with a conundrum of sorts. She tilts her head to Sebastian, "Take her back to her room and make sure she gets medical treatment. I'll decide what to do with her later." She says briskly, right now she has more pressing matters to attend to like who the fuck was trying to kill her.

Sebastian walks up and grabs Charlie by the arm, hauling her to her feet. He doesn't let her get her balance as he drags her back towards the estate. "I'll inform Puck and Finn of what happened."

Santana tilted her head towards Sebastian and nods before speaking in rapid Spanish. "Adelante y dile a mi padre también." She turns to the man in front of her and takes a step back before launching herself forward kicking him in the stomach. She exhales slowly and calms herself before bending down so she could look the would-be assassin in the eye. "Quieres decirme quién te envió, o tendré que sacártelo a golpes?" She really hoped that he tried to be a smartass. She had been shot at and worst of all she had been interrupted while she was with her toy. She wanted to beat his face in.

The man flashes her a smile before spitting into her face. "Vete al infierno, maldita puta."

"Después de ti." Santana stands up and extends her hand, it doesn't take long for someone to put a napkin in her hand and she wipes the spittle off her face, throwing it at him. She wasn't a cruel person not usually but she was in a foul mood and she needed to make a statement. Something to dissuade anyone from attempting to try again. "Averigua quien es, y encuentra a su familia. Si tiene hijos, esposa y padres que lo aman, encuéntralos y tráelos para acá. Ya veremos si saben para quien carajos este pendejo trabajaba. Ya veremos quien se rompe primero."

The man's eyes widened at this statement and he immediately began to struggle against her burly bodyguards. "Hablare." When Santana paid him no mind he repeated himself forcefully. "Voy a hablar!"

Santana shot him a dark look, "Of course you'll talk, and maybe by then I'll be in a mood to go _easy_ on your family, on the people you care about. But you're the fucking idiot who decided to go against Los Angelico's, you're the fucking idiot who pointed a gun at me and ruined my morning. So not only am I going to make you suffer. I'm going to fucking _crucify_ your entire family, and I'm going to make you watch."

~O~

Charlie winced as Sebastian pulled the final stitch closed, sealing the wound on her arm.

"Would you quit moving?" Sebastian grumbles. "I'm doing some of my best work here."

"I got fucking _shot_." Charlie insists emphatically. "Next time _you_ take a bullet for her and I'll treat you like a pincushion."

"You were _grazed_." Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"You are literally sewing me back together. It's way worse than a _graze_."

"Don't be a child, it was a through and through. You're going to be fine—well for now anyway. I mean there's no way you're going to survive the night so this was a waste of my time and medical supplies. Given what you did, you should have turned that gun on yourself, saved us a bullet and possibly yourself from what I'm sure will be a slow painful death."

Charlie stared at Sebastian flatly before turning her back to him. "I don't care. Go ahead and pull my fingernails and break my fingers or whatever it is you sociopaths do. Anything is better than being a sex slave until she gets bored with me and decides to discard me."

"Is it? Maybe she'll have me cut off her mark and leave you to some of her less savory employees."

Charlie gulps.

"You didn't think of that, did you? You're so fucking selfish that you don't even see what she's done for you. You think she offers her protection to just anyone? You're lucky she didn't hand you over to some rising star in her organization. You think _she's_ brutal? Please." He shook his head. Santana had done a lot for him over the years, and she had earned his loyalty time and time again. It rankled him to see some entitled brat think that she had some moral superiority. "Has she ever lied to you? No. She's told you exactly what to expect at every step along the way. She gave you a _choice_ , a choice that not everybody gets in this world. So maybe you should stop—"

"A _choice_? You mean to be _murdered_ or to be _raped_? That's not a choice."

"It's more than most people get." Sebastian insists. "And you threw it away because you're too dense to understand."

"Most people don't want to be raped or murdered, it's like asking which level of hell do you want to live in." Charlie mutters. She's about to say something else when she hears the door to her prison opening and she turns to look at Santana who is leaning against the door staring at the two of them blankly.

"Santana?" Sebastian glances up and takes a step back from Charlie on reflex.

She waves his concern away and watches her toy. "Go on. I believe you still had more to say."

Charlie's mouth dries. "I—uh—" She waits for Santana to give her an idea as to what to say, but Santana simply stares at her, quietly watching Charlie from the doorway. "If you're going to kill me, just do it now. I don't really care."

Santana frowned but otherwise made no indication as to what she was going to do.

Charlie waited, closing her eyes after a minute. She couldn't watch this anymore. She almost wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

It felt like an eternity before Santana finally spoke. "No. I'm not going to kill you."

"You're not?" Sebastian asked, surprised.

" _Why_?" Charlie half sobbed-half whined. She couldn't live like this anymore, day in and day out waiting for Santana to drop into her prison and fuck her only to be left alone again to repeat the cycle.

Sebastian slaps Charlie hard on her fresh wound making her cry out in pain. "Don't piss her off. She's already in a mood and you sure as hell don't want to make it worse."

"Sebastian." Santana warns, not needing to say anything more. He nods at the correction and steps back.

Charlie shivers. It wasn't even that Sebastian made her feel safe, but the increased distance almost made her feel like she was completely alone. "Why?" She repeats, that one question encapsulating so many feelings. Why won't Santana kill her? Why _her_? Why?

Santana smirks almost sadly. "I have other uses for you now."

"Other uses?" Charlie asks gulping nervously. "What more could you possibly want from me?"

"Your loyalty."

Charlie laughs. She doesn't mean to, and she knows how serious this situation is, but it's downright hilarious. "My _loyalty_? You threaten my family, you rape me repeatedly, you took my _virginity_ and you want my loyalty? Fuck you."

Sebastian growls and steps forward, but Santana raises her hand slightly and he stops. "I believe you've been fucking me for quite a while now."

"It's not fucking, it's _rape_." Charlie crosses her arms over her bare chest. "And why would I be loyal to _you_?"

"Maybe you'd rather be my sex toy for the rest of your life." Santana shrugs, "But I'm not in the habit of letting potential slip through my fingers. You give a great blow job, but I thought giving you an opportunity to be something more might be a reward for your bravery today. My mistake."

Charlie blinks at the revelation. "Wait. What does that mean?"

"It means nothing if I don't have your loyalty." Santana admits. "I can't allow you a future outside these walls if I question your intentions. You can never go home, everyone you know already thinks you are dead and has moved on. Your family couldn't possibly understand what you've already done in order to survive."

Charlie clenches her jaw but says nothing.

Santana continues. She has no intention of explaining to her toy that her precious family sold her to this life, that revelation will come later. "But if you dream of something beside being naked and filled with my cum every day for the rest of your life, then you may stay here and serve me."

"Like one of your many servants?" Charlie scoffs.

"Like one of my trusted guards." Santana corrects, ignoring the look of shock on Sebastian's face.

"And what good will that do? So you parade me in front of a bunch of goons who could do worse to me than you have? Just so you can lock me in here again after you decide you want me back?" Charlie asks, but even a few days' reprieve sounds like heaven. The chance to go outside, to stretch her muscles outside her locked room almost makes her salivate. "I don't want to be raped. Not ever again."

"My my, aren't we full of ourselves?" Sebastian smirks under his breath.

"If you join my guard, I will not touch you again without your consent."

Charlie laughs. "You're not _ever_ getting my consent."

"We shall see." Santana shrugs. "You will keep my mark, and just know that no one else will ever touch you again."

"Good." Charlie spits. Fucking assholes. Sex is the last thing she ever wants to do again. It's another choice, and she knows she's not going to get another opportunity like this ever again. "How long have I been missing?"

"Close to four months. The trail is cold and you are now officially a cold case. They aren't wasting resources on you, they aren't looking for you. As far as the police are concerned you're just another one of the thousands upon thousands of missing kids," Santana watched Charlie carefully, noting how she swallowed and rubbed at her eyes to keep from crying.

As much as she _hated_ to admit it, Santana was _right_. Her family wouldn't understand, her father would look at her with disgust, her mother with pity and Quinn—she couldn't bear the thought of what Quinn would say when she looked at her. "If I become one of your _goons_ —"

"Trusted guard," Santana corrects crossing her arms over her chest.

"Goons," Charlie repeats. "Then you'll never lay a hand on my family? You won't skin them alive or—hurt them?"

"I won't," Santana promises still studying every movement that Charlie makes, attempting to detect any falsehood.

"And you swear you won't touch me again? I don't want your hands on me ever again," Charlie frowns, there are only two things she cares about and Santana never laying hands on her again is one of them. She refuses to look over at Sebastian who looks absolutely incensed at her disrespect.

"I swear to you. I will not touch you again without your permission." Santana repeats her earlier promise. She'll probably have to find herself another pet, which will be a shame because Charlie had been fairly talented once she got the hang of it. But _rape_ is such a bitter word and Charlie has shown real promise with today's events. While most of the people in her camp focus on the fact that Charlie pulled a gun on her, Santana saw something else. Charlie hadn't _fired_ , which meant that she was already smarter and more cunning than she had given her credit for. Santana didn't like unrealized potential and she had a feeling Charlie wouldn't disappoint her.

Charlie bites her lip, weighing her options and reviewing the conversation in her mind. Truthfully, there _wasn't_ an option. _Anything_ had to be better than this and the idea that her family would be safe, that she wouldn't have to be someone's whore was far too tempting to pass up. "Fine."

Santana arches her brow. "What was that?" She goads.

"I said _fine_." Charlie sighs. "You have it. My _loyalty._ " She spits out the last word as it leaves a bitter taste on her tongue.

"Excellent." Santana smiles and turns to Sebastian. "Get her appropriate clothes and I'll make the arrangements with Puck. Have her ready in half an hour." With that she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, not bothering to turn back.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been four years. _Four Years_ since she had seen her twin or gossiped about something with her. The FBI might have given up, even informing them that after a few years they could petition for a death certificate, but Quinn _knew_ Charlie was alive. Call it some weird twin sixth sense, or whatever, but she knew it. She would find Charlie, even if it killed her.

Maybe that's why she felt such a drive. She couldn't join the FBI until she was 23, but she had worked her ass off in college to graduate early. Law school was next and by the time she hit their minimum age requirement there would be no _way_ they could deny her.

"Your mother would be so proud." Her father's voice intones from behind her.

She whirls around to face him, for a moment surprised thinking that he had entered the room. He hadn't he was standing just outside, his face turned unable to look in. She didn't blame him, she wanted to she had wanted to yell at him and scream that it was his fault. But it wasn't, how could it be? He had been shot, they had left him to die. "I wish she was here. I wish they were both here. Charlie should be here beside me," Quinn frowned and swallowed, feeling the prick of tears forming in her eyes. At least she _knew_ where her mother was.

"They're in heaven watching over us—at least, that's what I like to think," Russell says quietly, his voice filled with pain and grief.

"Charlie's not dead, I know she's still out there. I've always had that twin thing—I mean every now and again I feel something. I _feel_ her, maybe it's a sharp pain in the shoulder or something. I know she's alive." Quinn insists, they've had this argument before and it's tiring. "I'm going to find her and bring her home."

" _Lucy_ —" Russell begins he wants to reach out to touch her, to comfort her but it's like there's an invisible barrier causing him to freeze. "I have done _everything_ as governor to find her. I've bent the law and allocated resources to finding her, I have made sure that we've put away and deported _thousands_ of illegals. Before they get sent back I make sure that they ask, that they grill them on any information about her. There's nothing, every single lead has been followed, I haven't left a single rock unturned Lucy. She's not out there."

"It's _Quinn_." She reminds him for the millionth time. She's not Lucy anymore, not his perfect little girl that he can parade in front of his campaign posters. She hasn't been Lucy for a long time, certainly before Charlie was taken and definitely not since.

"They would want us to move on." He sighs. He knows she blames him for Judy's death. It had lead to her rebellious side coming out at the most inopportune moments, such as during midterm elections. It hadn't lasted long, and soon she was back to being the star student that she once was.

" _Mom_ would want us to find Charlie."

"It _killed_ your mother. Charlie's disappearance, killed her and I'm worried that it will do the same thing to you."

"Mom wasn't looking for her, she drank herself to death."

Russell frowns. It's not wrong. Judy had never been able to forgive herself for Charlie's disappearance. "Lucy, please. Can't we have a nice day to celebrate your graduation before you move off to New York?"

"You mean can't I smile for the camera and pretend we are a happy family so it helps your reelection campaign? No. Thanks for asking so politely. I told you that I didn't want to be a part of election. I didn't want the media talking about me, I don't want you talking about me on the campaign trail." Quinn ran a hand through her hair. "If it had been me, I know Charlie would never stop searching until she had answers."

Russell shakes his head, "It would have never been you," he mumbles this part and Quinn doesn't seem to acknowledge his words. "Can we at least have one day together. No reporters just the two of us. I cleared my schedule and unless there's a huge emergency I have a free day. We could talk, just talk—we haven't done that in years."

That was on him, he had been the one to bury himself in his work. She hadn't just lost a sister when she had disappeared. She had lost a mother and her father all in one day. Maybe it hurt to look at her, she had no idea but she felt abandoned and alone. At least Charlie had an excuse. Both her parents had disappeared when she needed them. Her mother into the bottle, and her father with his work. "Sorry, I think I'll pass." It was too late to repair the damage now and she needed to remain focused. She had only one goal left in life and that was to find her twin, she needed that closure.

"Lucy—"

"I'm going to my graduation and then I need to pack my things and start looking for a roommate in New York. It's the beginning of summer, so hopefully there will be _someone_ I can room with."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm the governor, surely—"

"I'd prefer to do it on my own, thanks. What is it you're always saying? Pull yourself up by your bootstraps? I'll figure it out on my own. I've been taking care of myself for four years, I don't need you trying to parent me now."

~O~

Sebastian pushed open the doors to Santana's bedroom, where she was lounging on her bed reading a tablet. "Don't get up," he begins dryly when Santana finally tilts her head to look at him. "I have good news and bad news. Good news is that you don't really have any pressing appointments today."

"So I can spend it lounging by the pool?" Santana questions shifting on her bed so she can get up.

"Well, you can, the bad news is that your father is stopping by later this evening to talk to you about business. I believe he wants your input on how to handle the Russell Fabray situation, he's running for reelection. I believe he wants to know whether we should help fund his reelection campaign."

"It's been good for business so far. Why expend our resources when the US government is willing to do it for us?" Santana questioned. "He may be a _bastard_ but he's good for business. Now if that's all, I think I'm going to spend the day out by the pool lounging around and maybe getting my dick sucked."

"About that," Sebastian pauses when Santana frowns at him. "Your latest toy hasn't exactly been broken in yet and then there is the small fact that your former pet is arriving at the compound early to prepare for your father's arrival."

"So?" Santana challenges. "It's not like I'm making _her_ suck my dick. Why is this even news? I don't care what she does, not since I allowed her to join my father's guard."

Sebastian arched a brow, that wasn't what had happened at all. "Right, so you don't want to hear any information that I have on her?"

"No." Santana replies honestly. "But when she shows up, you can tell her to meet me by the pool."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"God no, I just want to remind her what she's missing," Santana points to her closet. "Go be a good gay and pick me out something to wear."

Sebastian shot Santana a flat look, "I know you didn't just say that."

"Make me hot." She waves away his glare.

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the doorway. "No. I think that this is a crappy idea and the first moment she got she abandoned you. You should have eliminated her when you had the chance. I don't know why you want to insist on letting her hang around. Does she give good blowjobs? Is that it? Or is this part of the whole, I want her because she said no to me bullshit that most people get over in their teenage years?"

Santana glowers. "It's none of your damn business."

" _Everything_ about your life is my business." Sebastian counters frankly. "Let's face it, you couldn't manage any of this without me. So tell me, does she have a vagina made of gold? What is it?"

"No that would be uncomfortable," Santana shrugs. "She pulled a gun on me and lived. She impressed my father, and it took me several years to do that and he's my _father_. So excuse me if I'm intrigued. It's been four years, surely she misses me."

Sebastian smacked his forehead. Charlie had manipulated the situation and angled herself to move into Carlos's inner circle when one of his closest guards had been killed. It had just been a simple mission but Santana wasn't the only Lopez that Charlie had saved. Another choice had been presented to her and Charlie had moved into Carlos's good graces. Santana had been furious that her father had _poached_ one of her prospects. She had paid good money to train Charlie and at the first opportunity Charlie had betrayed her. He didn't trust her. "She thinks you raped her, so I doubt it."

Santana bristles. "I gave her a choice, she chose to become my toy and everything that entailed. I didn't _rape_ her. But if she wants to be some nun then so be it. I at _least_ want to show her what she's missing."

Sebastian rolls his eyes, she was far too arrogant and Charlie wasn't some kid she could smack around anymore. "Don't be an idiot and don't take her lightly. She's her father's daughter."

Santana frowned, "No, she isn't. I can say that with certainty because unlike daddy dearest, she's never sold anyone out. Go pick something out for me and then bring my toy to the pool. Also I want a full breakfast this morning, with mimosas."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, "One of these days I'm going to go on strike till you remember how much you need me, and pay me accordingly," he mutters under his breath before entering her closet.

"I already pay you more than anyone." Santana grumbles.

~O~

Charlie looked down out of the helicopter that was taking her from Carlos's compound to her former prison. Was this it? It had seemed so huge, so daunting when she was first here. Sure it was massive but it was nothing compared to other places she had seen.

"Estamos comenzando nuestro descenso."

Charlie tilts her head towards the pilot and nods her head once, "Gracias," she mumbles turning to watch their descent. She still wasn't the best Spanish speaker around, but she did understand it a lot better now. Carlos had insisted on relaying all his instructions to her in Spanish in an attempt to force her to get better. She didn't mind working for him, he treated her well and paid her well. He also gave her a freedom that she hadn't had in years. He had allowed her to have her own place and he had given her a phone. She was even allowed to surf the web without supervision, she was sure someone was watching and making sure she didn't contact anyone from her old life, but apart from a few news articles about her family she hadn't made any contact. The freedom was something she wouldn't have been allowed with Santana.

She frowns, she hadn't actually seen Santana in four years. A few glimpses here and there but she hadn't actually _seen_ her former tormentor. But things were different now. Her skin was tanned from her time in the warm California sun. Her muscles were well defined and her instincts honed through months and years of training. She could defend herself now, and neither Santana nor anyone else could hurt her. She was strong and capable and useful, even Carlos said so on multiple occasions. And Carlos didn't compliment _anyone._ But part of the reason she had even agreed to return to her former torture chamber was because she had a plan. She had to _know_.

For nearly a year she lived her life in denial, blaming Santana for everything that had happened to her. But Santana wasn't to blame, not totally. She had spent enough time in this world to know that they wouldn't have targeted her without a reason. Criminals, at least this brand of criminal didn't go after innocent people, they fought against other criminals. Sure, there was some collateral damage and sure some aspects did prey on innocent people especially the women, but by in large the only people that she had to kill were the people who were trying to kill her. So now, four years later, she was here for answers. Why _her_? Who had sold her?

The helicopter touching down jostles her out of her thoughts as she unbuckles herself and hops down. She quickly checks and makes sure that her gun is still holstered to her hip. Her left hand quickly finds one of her knives just in case and she exhales. She was good to go.

"If it isn't the ungrateful little shit," Sebastian greets from where he was waiting, his arms crossed over his chest.

Charlie tilted her head towards him. "Nice to see you too Sebby." She has no reason to be afraid of him, not anymore.

Sebastian's brow twitched at the nickname, "Glad to see you've become even more of a shit since we last saw each other. Come on then and don't dawdle, she wishes to see you near the pool area. You remember how _fun_ that was for you."

Charlie stiffens but flashes him a small smile and follows him. She's still not familiar with the layout of the mansion so she keeps close. Making note of her surroundings, she's gotten better at it and from the little she could remember, it didn't seem like Santana had changed the decor since she had been gone. "I remember how you nearly let Santana get killed. Twice by the way. That's what I remember."

Sebastian rounds on Charlie immediately but she weaves around him, moving in concert with his body and leaving him standing there his arm raised. "You only get one Sebby," she informs him bluntly. She wasn't going to let him touch her again. Certainly not without her permission. "I think I can find my way to the pool. Don't you have kidnapped girls to torment?"

Sebastian takes a step back, shocked. Frowning, he recovers quickly and drops his hand. "Forgive me if I don't trust you alone—actually you know what? Go on ahead. I _really_ don't care." If Santana was going to stop thinking with her head and act like some love-sick idiot, whatever happened was her own fault.

Standing at the entrance to the pool, she smirks and pushes her way in. It only takes a second for the sound of grunts and moans assaults her ears. It doesn't stop her from approaching, seeing two people have sex is nothing new to her, and she's not truly surprised to see Santana with a woman ontop of her. A new toy, some poor, probably underage, girl that Santana had probably picked out. At least she didn't look anything like her. "If you're busy I can just wait with Sebastian," Charlie speaks up completely unamused.

Charlie's voice is enough to distract Santana from what she was doing and she looks at the blonde standing before her. A slow smirk crosses her face as she pushes the woman on top of her off. She doesn't care that she crashes to the hard tile as she stands up and adjusts her pants. "Of course not. Don't worry she was boring me anyway," Santana waved her hand dismissively at the woman. "I just needed to blow off some steam—you know how that's like right? I mean it's been what? Four years? That's a long time to go without."

Charlie didn't answer Santana right away instead letting her eyes rest on the woman in front of her. Smeared makeup, her hair was a mess and there were bruises up and down her arm. Had she looked that _pathetic_ when she had been Santana's toy? "I'm fine." The woman shoots her a pleading look, one that forces her to look away. She had managed to get out, no one had saved her. It was callous and cruel, but it was the truth.

"If you change your mind, I'd be glad to let you service me." Completely unphased by Charlie's flat look she continues. "Think about it. You know how much it'll piss of Sebastian."

"Yes, and that is how I'd like to make all of my decisions." Charlie scoffs, though she'd be lying if she said the idea didn't have a little appeal.

"I guess I'll just have to make due with my new little toy here."

"I'm here to talk business." Charlie frowns. She's not some slave anymore and she's not going to be dismissed.

"Well fine, let's talk about why you left."

"I _left_ to get as far away from you as possible."

"So you run to my _father_?" Santana scoffs, not willing to show how much that stings. She's worked for years to earn her place in this empire and if Charlie thinks that every step she's ever taken hasn't been something she learned from _him_ she's sorely mistaken.

"Your father never raped me. I've witnessed him do some terrible things but he has never touched me." Carlos was many things, and he had asked her to do difficult things, but he had earned her respect. He had earned her loyalty; she would do whatever he asked of her. He trusted her, if only because she was one of the few people he didn't have to worry about an attempted coup.

Santana frowns. "If you came here for apologies—"

Charlie surprises her, cutting her off and grabbing her by the arm, yanking her away.

"What the fuck are you—" Santana barely got the words out before she was flung haphazardly into the pool.

Charlie turns and feels a sharp searing pain in her side. It was obvious the woman hadn't managed to shift her momentum. She hisses, it doesn't feel all that deep, and she swings her arm wildly, letting her elbow connect with flesh and dropping the woman. Her reaction was quick before the woman could recover, she had pulled out her sidearm and pulled the trigger twice. The first shot hitting the women in the stomach followed by one to the head, putting the woman out of what would have been a miserable death. Immediately she slides the gun back into her holster as once again Santana's security come running at the sound of gun shots.

Sebastian pushed his way to the front of the small crowd that was gathered and stared at Charlie. "What the _hell are you doing_?"

Charlie ignores him instead turning to Santana who was pulling herself out of the pool. "If there's a knife still in my back, I'm going to need a doctor—not Sebastian, I'm afraid he might twist it."

Santana smirks, unable to really find it in herself to be annoyed. "I knew you had it bad for me, but you didn't have to kill her. I had plenty of time for both of you."

Charlie frowned. "Next time I'll let her gut _you_ like a fish."

"So there's going to be a next time?" Santana asked raising a brow, delight on her face.

"Of me saving you? Despite not really wanting to? Probably. There are a _lot_ of people who want you dead," Charlie responds. Herself included. "Now could someone _please_ get a doctor and get this knife out of my back?" She was starting to feel woozy as the adrenaline faded and that was never a good sign.

~O~

"This is the fifth attempt on your life in as many months," Carlos snapped at his daughter, the fury etched on his face. "When are you finally going to get a proper security team? Where did that woman even come from?"

"Where do you _think_ she came from?" Santana rolls her eyes. Carlos had been there when her abuela bought her first toy, and if he wanted to play dumb then so be it. It was fine, she would have to replace her head of security _again_ , but that came with the territory.

"You have to stop doing this, mija. It's dangerous and a complete security risk." Carlos frowns. Santana's body was different and his mother hadn't thought she could ever find someone, but this was getting out of hand. Constantly changing her security team, and her head of security meant that there were periods where she wasn't protected.

Santana shrugs completely nonplussed by the whole affair, she was still alive. She wasn't injured, this had been a good day as far as she was concerned. "There's nothing that they could have done to prevent this unless they were right there beside me. I mean I like an audience every now and again, but not every time. It can get a little old." The look on her father's face suggested that he wasn't amused and she sighed. "Well then what do you suggest that I do?"

"I suggest that you get a personal bodyguard, one that will follow you loyally everywhere." Carlos instructed as the door to the room opened and Charlie hobbled inside. A slow smile crossed his face, "I think I've just found your new bodyguard."

Santana turns around slightly irritated, it's probably one of her father's men that is going to report her actions back to him but the frown quickly turns into a pleased smirk as she notices Charlie standing there a look of horror on her face. "I think that's an excellent idea."

Charlie freezes now that both father and daughter are giving her attention that she really doesn't want. She had just called to report that it had been a minor flesh wound. More or less, and that she'd be able to get back to work soon. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be anywhere near Santana. "Is it possible to say no?" She asks turning to Carlos immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was piss him off, but this was asking too much.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest, maybe letting Charlie get poached by her father was the best thing that could have ever happened to her. At least now she had experience. "Your old room has been recently vacated so I don't really see what the problem is."

"Santanita—" Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. This isn't some joke and Santana can't seem to stop antagonizing Charlie.

"I'm just kidding." Santana rolls her eyes. "She can room with Sebastian that should be equally amusing for me."

"Sir—" Charlie begins immediately; he can't be serious. "Have I done something wrong? I can do better—"

"Both of you, quiet." Carlos snips, turning to his daughter. "This is the very reason that your abuela couldn't leave Los Angelicos to you completely when she retired. You think you can get away with this behavior? I raised you better than acting like some adult _child_."

"Papi—"

"No. No more. I've sat idly by while you buy girls like an American boy buys cheeseburgers. No longer." He drops his voice emphatically. "I don't care if you are ashamed of your body. This has to stop. I will not support or allow you to have any other _toys_."

Charlie snorts. There is probably no one on earth who could talk to Santana like that.

Reminding him of her presence, Carlos's eyes harden. "You marked Charlie which means she will _never_ have anyone else. From now on, you belong to her just as she belongs to you."

" _What_?" Both Charlie and Santana spit incredulously.

"Papi, you can't be serious—"

"Carlos—"

"¡Basta!" Carlos bellows. "I am still the head of this organization and my word is final. Do you understand?"

Cowed slightly, Santana bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes _sir_." She spits it and turns to Charlie making a face.

"Carlos—please, I've been loyal. I've done everything you ask. _Please_ don't make me do this. I don't think I can do this. I've given up my _family_ everything, don't make me be her _babysitter._ " Santana was _older_ than her, she was supposed to be the responsible one between them.

Carlos frowned and glanced at his daughter, he still couldn't believe she hadn't told Charlie yet but it was time that she gave up on any romantic notions about a homecoming. "About your family Charlie, it's about time you understand exactly what my daughter has done for you—"

"Papi," Santana snaps, shaking her head. The amusement on her face long gone. "It doesn't matter. I'll have a room prepared for her right across the hall. Even though you didn't keep your promise to me, I meant what I said I won't touch you without your permission."

"I was under the opinion that being loyal to you meant being loyal to the Los Angelico's which _means being_ loyal to your father. I kept my damn promise," Charlie retorts stumbling back as the pain radiated in her back. She didn't owe Santana _anything_ and the insinuation irked her. She turns to Carlos, "See, this is why I _can't_ work for her. I've proven myself to you. I'm useful, I can—"

"If you can't protect my daughter, then you have no use to me." Carlos blankly informs her. "My daughter is _the_ most important person in my life and in my company. If you can't protect her, if you can't cherish her then you are no better than the toy you were bought to be."

Charlie took a step back as if she had been struck. She swallows, "Yes sir," she finally mumbles.

"So we're clear Charlie, if my daughter comes to an untimely end, then you die as well." Carlos clarifies narrowing his eyes at Charlie.

Charlie swallows, "Yes sir."

Santana relaxes for a moment; she didn't have to be quite as severe as her father. "Well now that is settled, I want you to know that the door to my bedroom is always open for you. Especially since I apparently can't have any more toys and you killed my last one in a fit of jealous rage."

Carlos groaned loudly as Charlie rolled her eyes. "So security specs? Might as well start now," Charlie frowned. Carlos had just given her a hell of a job and there were still people working here that knew her from before. She was going to have to work her ass off just to get some damn respect here, even though she wasn't sure she could ever look some of them in the eye. She swallows this was going to be a pain in her ass to get them in line.


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn swallowed and glanced at the naked woman beside her in bed. She was slowly coming to the realization that coming to New York might have been a mistake. She was supposed to be focusing on making herself an excellent candidate for the FBI, not—not doing what doing whatever _this_ was. " _Shit_ , shit, shit." Quinn mutters under her breath. She runs her hands through what she's sure is going to be terrible sex hair before glancing under the covers. Her mouth drops open at the sight of her roommate beside her and her whole world stills.

Fuck.

This was the last thing she needed and if it had just been some stranger she probably could have just forgotten about this night as some alcohol induced mistake. But with _Rachel_? She was never going to be able to convince the other girl that they were 'just friends'. Maybe she should just slip out and pretend that this night never happened. They had both been drunk right? Maybe she should just blame it on the alcohol. Now she just needed to sneak out without being noticed. She slips out of the bed as carefully as she can and she bends down reaching for her underwear. She just needs to make her way to her bedroom. She hadn't even wanted to go to the damn party, she should have never said yes to letting her roommate throw it at there place.

"Quinn?"

Quinn froze, maybe if she stayed perfectly still then her roommate would simply go back to sleep and ignore her.

"I know you're still there." Rachel grumbles, her face still buried in the soft downy pillow. "Come back to bed."

"I was—"

"You had a drink and a half, you weren't drunk." Rachel frowns tilting her head to finally look at her roommate. Like she had predicted Quinn was in panic mode and she wasn't sure if it was because she had just woken up naked in a woman's bed, or if it was because it was _her_ bed. They had slept together, it wasn't the end of the world they were just roommates. It didn't matter that she sort of liked her serious roommate, there were moments when she saw how _human_ she was. It was strange to meet someone just as focused as she was, someone so driven to get what she wanted. Even if it was to join the FBI.

Quinn swallowed, of course that was what Rachel would say. "It was a mistake," she says as flatly as she could.

Rachel sighs and rolls over. "That's what _every_ girl wants to hear in the morning, that she was simply a mistake."

"That's not—" Quinn begins, wondering how she was bungling this so badly. She sighs. "I don't have time for a relationship. I need to get accepted into Quantico, and that's what I need to be focusing on. The most important thing to me in the world is finding my twin sister."

"Quinn, I _know._ " Rachel stresses. Quinn's talked about the tragedy surrounding her twin non-stop. Sure, this next move is manipulative as hell but Rachel's tired of Quinn avoiding her feelings. They are both incredibly driven and she really thinks they could be good together. "But don't you think having a stable relationship would look good on your character and fitness application? More importantly _when_ you find your twin, don't you think it would be a good example to her to have had a real relationship?"

"Relationship? We just had sex!" Quinn sputters.

"We both know that it's _never_ just sex. Not with you and not with me." Rachel smiles at Quinn. "We don't have to make it serious, or anything but I think we should explore this. We don't have to date or anything but I don't see why we can't continue this."

Quinn sputters, "Because—"

"You haven't stopped searching for her Quinn, and you can as they say have it all. You can be an FBI agent and have a relationship. It's not impossible and it could work. I mean it's completely up to you but I think, that you should at least come back and enjoy life. Life is too short."

Quinn hesitates for a moment; she couldn't be selfish not with this. Charlie was out there and she needed to find her. "I—I'm sorry Rachel," she insists before taking off and heading back to her room.

~O~

Charlie groans against the sunlight assaulting her eyes, a pounding headache already on the wings. She mumbles a string of curses under her breath, trying to remember just how much she had drank last night. It wasn't even her fault, Puck had found out that her twenty-first birthday had passed and decided that a party was in order. She definitely should not have had that sixth shot of tequila. She was taking the day off, she could barely deal with Santana sober, it would be impossible to deal with her in her current state. She deserved this _one_ day. She rolls over a bit in her bed only to realize that there is something warm beside her. She immediately begins to pat the lump beside her. "Please be a puppy." She mumbles to herself.

"Not a puppy, but I do have a bone for you," Santana mumbles in her sleep.

Charlie's eyes snap open at the sound of Santana's voice, as she quickly realizes that she's topless. Almost immediately she quickly scrambles backward falling out of the bed and onto the marble floors. She's not even in her room, this was definitely Santana's room.

"Would you stop making so much noise?" Santana grumbles, "I'm _sleeping._ " It had been a while since she drank that much and all she wanted to do was sleep it off. She had been warm and comfortable and she's not in the mood for some dramatic conversation.

"I'm _naked_." Charlie barks.

Santana cracks her eye open, smirking lecherously before frowning and burrowing back under the covers. "Tease. You're only topless."

Charlie scoffed incredulously. "Only topless—what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I waited for your consent, if that's what you are pissed off about. You practically begged for it last night." Santana adds, "So either come back to bed or get the fuck out."

"My _consent_?" Charlie sputters, despite having vague foggy memories of practically falling on Santana. She was a horny drunk, but it had never been a problem before as no one would touch her with the tattoo on her chest. Ever since coming to the estate she had stayed fairly sober.

" _Please Santana_ , please fuck me," Santana mimicked in a terrible impression of Charlie. "You groped me several times, if I didn't enjoy it I'd be irritated about the sexual harassment. You can't be a tease." Santana waved her hand. "Now like I said, either get back in my bed or get the fuck out."

"You took advantage of me! You drugged me or—" Charlie sputtered.

"I didn't fuck you. Now shut up and let me sleep." Santana groans. Didn't Charlie know that it was _common_ courtesy to let someone sleep off a hangover? Besides she didn't sleep with drunk girls, she didn't currently sleep with any girls. "I should have totally fucked you," she mumbled under her breath.

"You should _not_ have fucked me." Charlie shakes her head, standing. She needed a new shirt, there was no way in _hell_ she was walking around this estate without her shirt. "This doesn't change anything."

Santana tosses a pillow in Charlie's general direction. "Fine. _Go away_." She had little doubt that any hope of sleep was gone, but she could at least try.

"I'm taking a fucking shirt," Charlie adds after a moment. She's just gotten the men to respect her, it had required a lot of punching and kicking. The last thing she wanted was to start the whole thing up again. She _hated_ getting into fist fights and demanding respect.

"Whatever, just shut up and go." Santana snaps at her. For one long moment she had thought, she had believed that Charlie actually wanted her. She should have known better.

Striding to Santana's closet, she pulls on a shirt—or at least she tries to. She barely manages to get the tight fabric over her shoulders before feeling like her lungs are being squeezed out of her chest. "The fuck? Do you not have any normal people clothes?"

"I have what I have. Deal with it and get out."

"Are you like a midget? I never realized before, shit you're _tiny_."

"Maybe you should lay off the damn french fries." Santana grumbles. She had to carry Charlie up from the bar last night and strip off a vomit covered shirt and this is the thanks she gets? Charlie was fucking heavy.

Charlie coughs, it would have to do. She doubted anything else would fit her and she _really_ didn't want to spend any more time in here, she didn't trust Santana as far as she could throw her. Which apparently would be further than she thought—she might have to test it out sometime. She crosses her arms over her chest and begins to head to the doorway when the door is pushed open and she catches Sebastian staring at her.

"A walk of shame?" He questions immediately a smug grin on his face. "Should I have the men come watch?"

Charlie stared at him flatly before punching him hard in the face, feeling satisfied with the dull crunch under her fist. She had wanted to do that for years, it felt just as good as she had imagined it to be.

~O~

Quinn drops her keys in the bowl by the door, craning her neck that is stiff from a day full of studying. Law school sucks, but she has to stay focused on the prize. This is all for Charlie. So when her property professor drones on about fee-simples and conveyances she just has to remember that this will get her one step closer to finding Charlie.

She stops, cringing at the sight of the set table and the delectable smell wafting toward her. "Rachel—" She groans, shaking her head. Rachel's smart and funny and in another world she would totally be attracted to her. But she doesn't have _time_ for distractions. "I thought we talked about this."

"You talked. I ignored you." Rachel shrugs with a smug grin. "And don't even pretend like you aren't hungry. I know that you forget to eat when you're studying."

"I had a seminar, they brought in food."

"Seminars are on Thursdays." Rachel points out. "So quit lying and come have dinner."

"Should I be freaked out that you are stalking me now too?"

"It's hardly stalking when we've been living together for a year now and you have your schedule on the fridge," Rachel reminds her. "Now, I made your favorite so why don't you just sit and eat and we'll talk. We can talk about anything you want."

"Rachel, we've talked about this, I don't have time to enjoy life. Do you think she's there enjoying life wherever she is? There was a case in the papers about some Austrian man who kept his daughter locked up in the basement for _years_ , raping her and abusing her. What if that's Charlie? Everyone thinks she's dead but I _know_ she isn't. I can just feel it, and whatever she's going through I need to rescue her. She's like the only family I have left and even though we're twins I know I'm not going to recognize her when I see her."

That wasn't exactly true, Quinn still had a father who was the governor of Arizona. There was rumors he even had political aspirations to become the next president. He was certainly a popular figure in Arizona and in the Deep South. While she didn't agree with his politics, he was still Quinn's father and perhaps what Quinn needed instead of chasing this pipe dream was to reacquaint herself with her father. "Do you really think that your sister would want you to skip out on life? You find her and then what? You resent her because both of you are stuck? You're still looking for her Quinn, being with me doesn't mean that you just gave up."

"It means that I have luxuries that she doesn't."

"For all you know having a shower is a luxury that she no longer has. Wanting to find your sister is admirable, but putting your life on hold for her and obsessing over her isn't something that I think she wants. You have two more years before you are even eligible to join the FBI. So until then _enjoy_ your life. You don't even have the resources to find your sister at this moment. So it's okay to eat a nice home-cooked meal. It's okay to have a little fun. You're going to find her and everything is going to be okay."

Quinn stares at Rachel for a long moment, she doesn't even know what to make of her. Part of her is flabbergasted at the amount of effort that Rachel is putting into it, part of her is annoyed that Rachel can't seem to take the hint. There's also a huge part of her that is touched that Rachel has taken the time to do this for her. She hasn't had a home cooked meal in _ages_ , the last time—well her mother had been alive and Charlie hadn't been kidnapped.

"I made bacon cheeseburger tacos for you." She reminds. "I touched _bacon_ for you. That has to mean something to you."

"It does—but Rachel, I'm not the relationship type." Quinn shakes her head. She's had a couple of flings in college, enough for her to know that she's a fuckup with relationships and it's much better to stay unattached. "You mean a lot to me, and if I'm honest you are probably the best friend I have in New York. I don't want to lose that and I can't _afford_ to lose focus. Not when I'm so close."

"Quinn—I'm not asking you to ignore your sister, nor am I asking you to give up your search for her. I'm simply asking you to have dinner with me. There's no pressure, you don't even have to make any promises. I know things don't always go the way we want them to but we _owe_ it to ourselves to at least give it a try."

"I _owe_ it to you to stay the fuck out of your life. We're _roommates_ and even that is probably murder on your psyche."

"It isn't. I don't know who you believe yourself to be, but the woman I see is loving and cares deeply. I also see someone who is trying to face the world by themselves and I'm telling you Quinn, that you _really_ don't need to. You need to have someone in your corner, and I'm willing to be that person. So please just let me in, or if it's not me let _someone_."

Quinn frowns for a second and eyes the food on the table, "You know—this used to be our favorite meal. We'd fight over it whenever my mom made it. She didn't make it often, dad didn't really like eating anything that the "illegals" ate. I mean let's ignore the fact the fact that my mom americanized it." Quinn frowned slightly. "Wait, what are you going to eat? It's bacon cheeseburger tacos Rachel and you're a vegan."

Rachel smiled as Quinn moved towards the plates, "Honey-Lime sweet potato, black bean and corn tacos, you are free to try some if you wish."

Quinn snorted that didn't sound good at all. Taco's needed meat inside of them, not whatever the hell Rachel had. "No thanks. I'm good with what you made for me."

Rachel beams at the compliment. "Do you like it?" She asks. She didn't taste it but followed the recipe exactly, even though there may or may not have been tears as she handled the meat. "I hope it's not overcooked."

Quinn groans at the nearly orgasmic flavor that dances along her tongue. "It's amazing." She says around a mouthful. She could definitely get used to this. She gulped down another bit. "I just—thank you." She acknowledges. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. This is more than anyone's ever done for me."

Rachel leaned forward, placing her hand over Quinn's. "It was my pleasure."

Quinn swallows thickly, trying to push down the little flutter in her stomach at the contact.


	5. Chapter 5

"Will you stop looking at me?" Charlie snaps at Santana not looking up at her, wanting to focus on the tablet in her hands. "Your father is going to be there, and I'm not going to let him assume that I'm shirking my duties. Especially since people _really_ don't like you. If you die, I die and that can't happen."

"Oh blondie, I'm hurt! You don't like me? But I have such a sunny disposition." Santana scoffs, but something in the way she says it makes Charlie lookup. Santana's been on edge all day and it's been driving her crazy.

"I'm not going to tell your father if you have someone on the side, just don't leave any sharp objects near them," Charlie advised. It was probably what was wrong. Puck had mentioned something about blue balls, but she couldn't find herself caring about anything that had to do with Santana.

"And risk him finding out anyway?" Santana shakes her head. For _once_ her anxiety wasn't about sex. "He would cut off my dick if he found out I disobeyed him, so until you decide you can't resist my charms my hand is the only consolation I'll have."

"If you're not upset about sex, then what is your fucking problem? There's an important meeting today and you can't fuck this up."

Santana frowned slightly, "I know how important today is, but _I'm_ not going to be the one to fuck it up."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm giving you the day off." Santana straightens her shoulders the way she does when she's trying to hide something. Charlie's learned all of her tells in the last year and a half since she left Carlos's compound. "So I don't want to see you."

"Fuck _no_ you're not giving me the day off." Charlie narrows her eyes. A meeting this important means that people are coming to the estate which means a potential hole in her security teams. More importantly, it's not her home turf anymore and there's no way she's letting Santana out of her sight. _Nothing_ is going to happen to Santana. She hasn't—probably won't ever—forgiven her for what happened, but Santana is also the closest ally she has.

"I am." Santana scratches her ear which only confirms that there's some sort of shitty thing that Santana is trying to keep from her. "Sorry to say it, Princess, but you're still just a security goon. I'm your boss and so what I say goes."

"Fuck no it doesn't, not when you're being an idiot." Charlie scoffs. "In case you forgot, I'm _your_ security goon."

"Fine. If you insist on working today, go guard a bush or something. Just stay the hell away from me."

Charlie shook her head, "Your orders have been duly noted, and I'm telling you as your head of security to shove them up your ass. I'm your _bodyguard_. I can't guard your body if I'm not in the same room as you. Don't worry you won't hear a peep from me."

Santana stared and narrowed her eyes, "I understand that my father thinks you shit rainbow turds, but you don't. I'm telling you that I don't _need_ your presence during this meeting. I'll take Puck inside with me, it's one of those need to know things and you _Charlie_ don't need to know. So shut up and sit down."

Charlie gritted her teeth angrily, "I'm not your _slave_ anymore."

"You're not my equal either," Santana retorts effectively shutting Charlie down. She turns her head not wanting to see the hurt on Charlie's face. The car starts slowing as she approaches her father's estate. "Hopefully they'll be something good to eat there," she mutters. They hadn't had time to grab food on their way. She blamed Sebastian and Charlie, everyone was in this huge rush and this was the last place on the planet she wanted to be.

Charlie ground her teeth, sometimes dealing with Santana was nearly impossible. "I'm not just going to sit in the car while you put yourself in danger. This is _exactly_ why your father made me the head of your security and excuse me but I'm not going to fuck it up."

"Then wait until everyone enters the meeting and guard a plant. I don't _care_ , but you are not going in there." Santana snaps as the car finally comes to a stop. She waits until the door opens before stepping out of the car, quickly moving to button up her white blazer. She was a professional and she needed to look the part. "My gun," she says immediately turning to Puck who hands her a gun. She holsters it immediately watching as Charlie finally hops down from the car.

Santana's timing was almost perfect. _Almost_. Five more minutes and Charlie would never have seen it. But she forgot that Russell Fabray was an arrogant son of a bitch that insisted on being everywhere half an hour early. Or maybe she didn't forget, she was irritated that Charlie still didn't appreciate everything she had done for her and maybe she just wanted a bit of gratitude. For whatever reason, she had decided to spare Charlie from the price that had been agreed upon. She gave her a _choice_ and yeah it wasn't much of one but _she_ wasn't the bad guy here. Half of the fun had been fucking her because she knew _exactly_ who her father was. Now though—she really did want to spare Charlie the pain of finding out.

A white humvee pulled up next to them and Santana had to smirk at the dirt-caked vehicle. Not even Russell Fabray could traipse through the desert without getting his hands dirty. The car parks and Santana grabs Charlie's arm before she can look over. "Charlie, _please_ —"

But again, it was too late. The few men that he trusted with his protection slipped out of the vehicle, opening the door for Russell who stepped out like he had nothing to worry about. "Let's hurry this up, I have a wedding to get to."

Charlie froze. She knew that voice, she'd _dreamed_ of that voice. "Dad?"

Santana frowns. She knows that it will take a minute for Charlie to put the pieces together, but she's going to protect her from saying something she'll regret for years. "Charlie, just—he's not the man you think you know."

Charlie practically barrels out of the car but Russell barely spares her a glance. "Santana!" He greets warmly when Santana exits the car behind her.

"Russell. I would have liked it to never see you again." Santana frowns, folding her arms over her chest. She's hated Russell Fabray since she first met him, but this Charlie situation made things more complicated.

"Well you know, I'm the front-runner for the republican nomination. If I'm going to the white house, then I'm going to need some security that none of our past indiscretions will come to light. Some more financing would be great as well, the American people don't want a candidate who is beholden to corporations."

It doesn't quite register in her head what's going on as she moves to try and hug her father. He had come for her, he had found her and he was going to save her from this place and take her home. She could see Quinn again and—her body collides with a man who had stepped in front of her, blocking access to her father. She raises her fist to break his face when she feels strong arms wrap around her and the smell of whatever disgusting cologne that Puck used hit her senses. " _Dad!_ No let me go! _Dad!_ " Charlie yelled trying to wrestle out of Noah's grasp. What was he doing? Why wasn't he acknowledging her? She was right here. Hadn't he come to rescue her?

The racket and the noise is finally enough to draw Russell's attention and he stares at the crazed woman for a second, before turning his attention back to Santana. "This has to be some joke."

"What? Don't recognize your own daughter?" Santana shoots back coolly, moving to step in between Charlie and Russell. Puck would keep her held down, this was what she had been trying to avoid. This wasn't how she had wanted Charlie to find out.

"My _daughter_ is getting married next week." Russell clenches his jaw. "I have no idea who this whore is or what you've done to her but she is _not_ my daughter."

"Daddy, it's _me!_ _Charlie_." Charlie yelled, her voice straining as she struggled against Puck's grasp she felt herself immediately hitting the ground as Puck shifted allowing someone else to hold her down.

Russell turns to the woman again, the voice is familiar and he squints while looking at her. She's darker and her hair is sun-bleached but he had just seen Quinn two days ago, the resemblance is uncanny. His frown gets deeper and he immediately drags his eyes away from her and turns his attention back to Santana. "Charlie?" He gulps before turning to Santana, "She's supposed to be dead."

"Yeah, well I changed my mind." Santana shrugs. "And the deal was dead or on the streets, the crux of the deal was that she could never come back, so _forgive me_ if I didn't think you'd care." She tilts her head towards Charlie who had finally stopped struggling and yelling.

"But that wasn't the _deal_."

"Daddy?" She pleads. This can't be what she's thinking, her father might not have been the best man but he surely wouldn't—he couldn't have— "Daddy _please._ "

" _Don't_ call me that." He turns to the woman who can't possibly have been his daughter and sneers. "You don't get to call me that."

"And why not?" Santana challenges, bristling angrily. No one talks to Charlie that way. "Because she's not the daughter you chose to keep?"

"I made a _choice_ and I chose the daughter who didn't cause trouble. What about you?" He rounds on his former daughter. She's wearing tight jeans and a camisole and he can see the ornate tattoo on her chest. "You think I don't know what you must have done to survive? It _disgusts_ me. You disgust me. You're _dark_ and some tattooed _freak_. I won't have you dropping back into our lives just to make everything more complicated."

"Complicated?" Charlie finally finds her voice. "It was _you_. You _sold_ me to them knowing sure as hell what they would do to me. And you just—you _sold_ me?"

"They were _supposed_ to kill you once they made their money back."

"Is that all I am to you?" Charlie feels tears burning her eyes and tries to choke back the emotion she feels. No wonder Santana had been so confident that no one would come for her—fuck, she had been so naïve. "Some fucking piece of property that you could sell to get ahead?"

"Watch your _tone_ —"

"Yeah?" Santana challenges getting in Russell's face, "What are you going to do about it? She's one of _us_ now, which really shouldn't be any of your concern."

The commotion had been enough to raise eyebrows inside but Carlos had finally had enough. He had been quietly observing the debacle on his driveway. "Is there a problem here?" Carlos asks as he steps toward the disturbance, his own security trailing behind him.

Russell turned to Carlos, his face hard, there was a flash of guilt in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a hard look. "Of course there's a problem. This— _this_ wasn't the plan." Russell points to Charlie's general direction, he couldn't look at her.

"The plan? You never actually ironed out what you wanted us to do with your daughter you simply assumed that we were savages and would kill her. The Los Angelicos have kept up our end of the bargain, giving you the capital and paying into your Super Pacs. We have kept the violence on your end down and fed you information on our competitors so you could take them out. When you were behind in the polls we did exactly what you asked of us to help you win. Even when you came to us attempting to create a tragedy that would push you ahead. You didn't care what we did with your daughter so long as the polls surged."

"She's supposed to be _dead_." Russell frowns, this _changed_ things. Perhaps he could still spin this in his favor. His daughter's glorious return.

"You threw away your daughter like _trash_ , what we chose to do with her is our business," Carlos studies Charlie on the ground, there are currently two men pinning her to the ground. The idea that a man could just get rid of his daughter because she had no use to him, baffled him and made him weary of Russell Fabray. Even though Russell had kept his end of the bargain a man that could sell out his own flesh and blood to get ahead was not a man to be trusted. Keeping Charlie alive was merely _insurance_ , but it was not his only insurance policy.

Santana shifted her body and looked at Charlie for a moment, she couldn't even begin to read the emotions that were on her face. This was something that could break a person, that could absolutely ruin them. "Charlie you're a Los Angelico." Hazel eyes fly up to her, and she sees a spark of something anger and hatred. She could deal with that. She'd been dealing with it since Charlie was a teenager. "And more importantly you're embarrassing me. Start acting like my chief of security. This is why I didn't want to take you along."

"Santana," Puck snaps at her, the last thing they need is Charlie hulking out on them. The situation was already dangerous and a pain in the ass. He knew that Charlie knew how to get out of the hold, but with her emotions right now she was a wild card.

Out of all the things she knew, she understood how to be pissed off at Santana. It was easy, it was her general default and she had never been more grateful to see Santana's face in her entire life. She could deal with this a lot easier than she could deal with whatever this situation was. "Well you should have told me."

"And miss this glorious reunion? Come on you know me better than that," Santana said briskly. "If it makes you feel better you can punch him in the face. I don't care." She glances at Puck. "She's fine, let her up."

"Santana—"

"Let her go," Santana repeats calmly. Watching as Puck rolls his eyes and lets Charlie go. It takes a moment for Charlie to stand up and dust herself off. "He _is_ the governor of Arizona so you can't kill him, it'll bring the entire Federal government on our heads."

Charlie exhales slowly and turns to Carlos, having the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry Carlos," she apologizes, tilting her head. "I embarrassed you."

Carlos studied her for a moment, "See that it doesn't happen again," he informs her bluntly before turning to Russell, "Are we going to discuss business or not?"

Santana stared at Charlie for a moment, her annoyance back with a vengeance. How was it that her father got Charlie's undying respect and loyalty? She could do without all the backtalk. Fear and respect, was that too much to ask? "Where the hell is my apology? You embarrassed me!" She hissed quietly grabbing Charlie's arm as Russell and her father went inside.

Charlie pulled her arm from Santana's grasp, "You really don't need my help embarrassing you. You're pretty good at doing that yourself." She swallows, this was easy. She had no idea how to deal with all this. She quickly brushes away a stray tear. Maybe she should have chosen the bullet, it would have hurt less. Her father had given her to a criminal organization—he had thrown her to the wolves for power. Every last thing that had happened to her had been _his_ fault. He had put her in this situation.

~O~

Santana frowns. She'd spent _hours_ looking for Charlie to make sure she wasn't going to do something stupid and her feet hurt. "I should have known you'd be here. Next time why don't you answer my fucking texts instead of walking all over this damn place to find you."

Charlie smiles up at her, an empty bottle of a thirty-year-old Macallan beside her. "You missed me." She licks her lips.

"You planning on replacing that?" She gestures to the four-thousand-dollar bottle. It's not the most expensive thing Charlie could have drunk, but it's definitely up there.

"Replace what?" Charlie asks and then looks at the bottle. "Nope," she laughs at this like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"And you're drunk, on expensive whiskey. Lovely," Santana pinches the bridge of her nose. Charlie was taller and heavier than she was and dragging her across her estate to be dumped in her room was not something that she truly wanted to do. Especially since the last time that she had done it, Charlie had been rather ungrateful. Maybe she could order Puck and Finn to do it. "I'd leave you here if I wasn't worried about you emptying my bar. Are you really getting drunk because of your shitty father? You have a shitty father, maybe the shittiest, get in line. Puck's dad was a bastard. Finn's father was some junkie who would have sold Finn's kidney for his next fix. Everyone has shitty fathers."

"My mom's dead."

"That sucks." Santana blinks in surprise. She's known about that for a while and had just assumed that Charlie would have found out through google—or whatever. It wasn't exactly a secret and she thought Charlie had figured out a while ago how to check in on her family.

"Yeah." Charlie takes a sip from the empty bottle and frowns when nothing more comes out. She really should get more liquor.

"On the plus side, _I_ didn't kill her so—" Santana shrugs. "It's not all bad." She's not very good at this whole feelings thing.

"My sister is getting married."

Santana frowns, surely Charlie knows that there's no way she can show up at the Governor's daughter's wedding without it turning into a complete nightmare. "Do you want to go? Because—"

"No—fuck no. Especially not after _that_. My father?" Charlie shakes her head emphatically. "Fuck him and fuck them and fuck it."

"So eloquent." Santana snorts.

"I just—fuck, you know?"

"Yes, I know." Santana sighs as she watches Charlie attempt to reach for more of her top-shelf stuff. This wasn't alcohol that you chugged because you were attempting not to feel, that was alcohol that needed to be savored. "I think you've had enough Charlie. What happened to you was shitty, I get it but drowning your sorrows in my top-shelf stuff is _not_ the answer. Mostly because you're going to have to replace it and I know I don't pay you that well." She tugs on Charlie's shirt causing the taller woman to collide with her. Santana grunts but catches Charlie. "You _really_ need to lay off the alcohol," she was still damn heavy.

Charlie struggles against Santana's tight hold trying to reach the bottle that's out of reach, she finally gives up and closes her eyes, trying not to cry again. The worst part was not knowing what she had done to deserve this. She hadn't been the worst kid in the world, she had never done any drugs or alcohol. Sure she didn't get the best grades but she had tried her hardest to make her parents proud, and she had thought they loved her. That they were _happy_. Maybe she hadn't agreed with her father's politics but plenty of people didn't agree with their parents on stuff like that. It makes her head hurt more than it already hurts and she can't deal with it. She certainly doesn't want to feel it. "Just let me—"

Santana pulled Charlie with her not letting her finish, it was a long walk back to Charlie's room and she really wasn't going to leave her here at this spot surrounded by alcohol. She'd die of alcohol poisoning or worse drain her dry. "No. Get drunk on your own dime, not mine."

Charlie frowns and wiggles her fingers at the alcohol which seems to be getting further away, before realizing that Santana was once again dragging her away. She manages to wiggle herself free and tries once again to get to more of the alcohol. "Santana—"

"How about I just drop you off with Sebastian? He has a stash in his room," Santana offers even though she has no intention of putting the two of them in the room together. She was simply going to drop Charlie in her room and then go to bed. Today had been the day from hell and she was going to spend the rest of the evening—

"If you're not going to let me drink," Charlie begins twisting out of Santana's grasp once more and reaching forward grabbing onto Santana's crotch clumsily. "Help me forget in other ways."

Santana rolled her eyes, she deserved a medal for being a fucking saint. Immediately smacking Charlie's hands hard, she frowns at her, "No. The last time you tried this you freaked out the next day. So no." It doesn't stop Charlie from trying again and Santana groans. "Why is it that you only want me to fuck you when you're drunk? Is this what you secretly want when you're sober?

Charlie frowns, Santana was talking to much. "I just don't want to feel—"

"Yeah, well join the club." Santana snaps. When Charlie simply pouts pathetically in reply, she sighs. "I could make a comment about how you'll feel tomorrow morning but that's too easy. Look, I'm not going to deal with you accusing me of raping you. At worst I sexually exploited the situation but you _consented_. You always consented."

"Because I didn't have a _choice_." Charlie frowns this wouldn't be the last time they'd argue over this.

Santana rolled her eyes, Charlie had three choices and it wasn't as if she was honest. She had wanted a damn toy. Charlie would have led a comfortable life doing nothing but being her toy. "You've _always_ had a choice. Just like right now you have another choice."

Charlie stops cooperating, or at least stops whatever her version of cooperating had been and tugs Santana back toward the alcohol. "Are you going to kill me now? If you're going to kill me now I deserve more booze."

"I'm not going to kill you." Santana rolls her eyes. "I'm going to put you to bed so you don't end up pickling your own liver and then I'm going to take a shower because today sucked."

"What's the choice then?" Charlie stops fighting her.

"The choice is simple. If you really want to sleep with me, my bed is open for that anytime you want as long as you are sober and this isn't some attempt to try and forget." When Charlie doesn't take a swing at her head Santana glances at the younger woman and relaxes. "You're going to have to stop saying that I raped you though."

"Except you did," Charlie responds, her words slurring ever so slightly.

"No, I _gave_ you—"

"I get it. You're lonely and you just want someone to love you," Charlie continues ignoring the fact that she's entering dangerous territory.

Santana's body went rigid and she swallows, "You don't have any idea what you're talking about." There's a part of her that wants to shove Charlie away but she doesn't. She turns to look at her instead.

"I do. You're all prickly—"

"Look, if I had tried to get with you, what would you have said? Would you have slept with me?"

"Of course not." Charlie scoffs to herself.

Santana's blood runs cold and she swallows down a thick lump. But she should have known, she was an idiot to think things were ever different. "Right."

"But not because of your body—not because of your dick. It's because you _are_ a dick. And that you're an old lady. Mostly that, the old lady part. I was sixteen it was creepy."

" _Old_? How old do you think I am?"

"Right now? Forty-two."

" _Forty-two_? Fuck you."

"I was trying to be nice! Aren't you forty-five?"

That was the last straw and she let Charlie fall, shirking off the blonde's weight. "You know what? Fine, fuck you. Crawl back to your bed yourself."

"Santana—" Charlie whined, glancing down the hall toward where they had come from. If she really had to drag herself anywhere it would be for more alcohol.

"No, you little _shit_. I'm thirty years old!" Santana snapped at her.

"You have not aged well," Charlie muses and yelps when Santana lunges at her. "Santana _no!"_


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel took a deep breath and sighed, twisting her wedding ring on her finger nervously as she stepped through the front door. There was no need to be nervous, she was _Rachel Berry-Fabray_ for heaven's sake. It didn't matter if the Fabray part was currently debatable, she could definitely do this. Millions of people did this every day, they shopped here and ate here. It didn't matter if this was one of the roughest neighborhoods. She had heard horror stories of course and Quinn had insisted that she be careful, but all the best actor's did _method_ acting and if shadowing a gangster was what it took to get her new character right then so be it. She could watch other actors of course but she didn't want a caricature, she wanted to be believable.

Taking another calming deep breath, she exhaled and pushed the door open to the restaurant, immediately taken with the wonderful smell that filled the air. It was warm, inviting and familiar, and she was pleasantly surprised. She glances around, despite the delicious smell, there doesn't seem to be a lot of people inside. Just a few men sitting in a booth sipping drinks and waiting for their food. It's enough to cause her to frown, sure some of them looked absolutely terrifying but she had heard that the Los Angelicos cartel owned this neighborhood. The locals didn't seem particularly afraid of them and it was technically the safest of all the bad neighborhoods. "Um—" she begins, only to be interrupted by yelling emanating from the kitchen.

" _What the hell_ is that _abomination_? I thought you said you knew how to cook Mexican food!"

"I made it better!"

"That's _not_ better! You bastardized the taco, how the fuck do you do that?"

"I'm American, we make _everything_ better!"

"You don't need any more fucking bacon!"

"Santana I swear to god—"

"I don't even _eat_ tacos!"

"I _know_!"

There was a pause for a moment and Rachel couldn't help but stare at the kitchen wondering what the hell was going on back there. "Hello?"

Puck frowns at the voice, "Can't you read the sign? We're closed."

"Oh." Rachel turns around to look at the door to check, mortified that she would have made such a faux pas. Scanning the front quickly, there's no sort of indication that would have let her know they were closed. She turns back to the man who had addressed her. "Well maybe if you actually _put_ a sign up in the window, your patrons would know that you are closed for the day."

Puck whipped around to see that the newcomer was right. "Damn it." He muttered, shooting a glare at Finn. "You were supposed to put up the sign."

"Nobody ever comes in when we're here anyway." Finn defends, not bothering to look up from his tablet to sort out this mess. His fantasy football team seems to be doing pretty well, but he's got to get his roster set.

"Well someone's here now!" Puck frowns and looks at Rachel again. "We're closed," he insists again getting up to push her out of the restaurant.

"I'm looking for Los Angelicos," Rachel says immediately noticing the tattoos on his arm, this could be it. This could be it and she couldn't be turned away now. "I'm an actress—"

"Don't care," Puck interrupted. "We're _closed_ , so right now you're trespassing," he shifts his shirt so she can clearly see the piece he's carrying.

Rachel pales a bit, perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew, but this was for her career, she couldn't just give up now. "Hey—be nice!" Rachel turns to look at the tall man with a dopey smile on his face as he stares at her. She shoots him a grateful look as he stumbles to his feet placing down his tablet. "You were saying?"

Puck resists the urge to smack his forehead, "Mommy and Daddy are not going to be pleased," he mutters under his breath glancing back at the kitchen. For some strange reason Charlie and Santana thought that they were being discrete. But _everyone_ knew about the two of them. "Finn."

"What? We should hear her out." He smiled charmingly at Rachel. If she didn't know that he was a criminal she might have almost thought, it sweet. "You're an actress?"

"Yes." She stood a little straighter, not willing to let them see her nerves. "I'm shooting a new pilot season for HBO and I wanted to add some authenticity to the role."

Finn opens his mouth ready to say yes when Puck shoves him back into the booth. "No."

"But—" Rachel begins as the door to the kitchen opens and a short grouchy looking Latina storms out of the kitchen.

"It's called, _Abuela's_. You know after _my_ abuela! You can't kick me out of the damn kitchen! And if she saw what you were making she'd _beat_ me."

" _Good_. You deserve to be beaten!"

Santana twitched and turned on her men for a second, she expected to hear snickering but they wisely kept their mouth shuts. Her eyes fall on the woman in front of her. "When did we start letting in hobbits?" She turns to Finn. "I thought I told you put the closed sign up?"

"I got distracted," Finn admits with what he hopes is a charming smile.

Santana rolls her eyes. She should have known better than trusting Finn with something actually important. "Look, sorry but we don't serve people from the Shire, so get out of here."

Rachel gasped. Sure these people may be drug dealing criminals but that didn't give them the right to be rude. "I'll pay!"

Santana arches her brow. "No thanks."

"But you didn't even hear my proposal. Who is your boss? I'm sure that I could convince him—"

"I _am_ the boss, so why don't you hop back on your tricycle and pedal on out of here?" Santana suggests.

"Oh." Rachel shook her head. She hadn't made the best impression, but she could recover. "Of course. Well, you see, I am about to start filming and I thought that shadowing you and your people might help—"

Santana snorts indelicately, unable to help herself. "Seriously? What part of 'No' don't you understand?"

"This could net me an _Emmy_ —when I win I'll make sure to thank you personally—"

Finn nudged Santana carefully, "Come on boss, we could at least hear her out."

Santana turned to look at Finn, he was an idiot. She had known this for _years_. They were criminals they didn't want to be named in some award ceremony that was watched by millions. It would be harder to do their jobs. "You know she's married right? So put it back in your pants numbnuts."

Finn frowned and turned to look at Rachel glancing at her hands. Sure enough there was a ring on her finger and from the looks of it a pretty sizeable diamond. "Oh. Never mind, then."

Santana rolled her eyes as Finn sat back down quickly losing interest in the conversation. "So like I said, you need to _leave_ now."

"Nobody's leaving." A voice called from the kitchen just as someone entered the main room with their back to the group. "At least not without eating these, they're fucking amazing."

Rachel gasped when Charlie turned around, completely speechless.

Charlie still hadn't noticed the newcomer, more interested in the deliciously familiar smell of their lunch. "My mom used to make these when I was little, so let me rock your world—"

"Quinn?" Rachel furrowed her brow. It couldn't be. This woman was tanned with sun-bleached hair, but the resemblance was almost unmistakable.

It's a reflex that was born of years and years of mistaken identity, and even though it's been years Charlie turns to the voice. It's just irritating as it had been all those years ago. "My name isn't—" Charlie stops for a moment and stares at the woman and then squints. "Do I know you?"

Years of being married to an FBI agent had trained her for this moment. She was _furious_. Quinn had _promised_ her that this move to LA would be focused on repairing their marriage. She wasn't supposed to be taking any stupid undercover assignments, especially not any that put her in danger. Yes, Rachel had been busy over the last week and since their separation hadn't seen Quinn since their last date night but _surely_ Quinn could have told her about this. "I'm sorry, you just looked like someone I know," Rachel smiles and looks at Santana once more. "I'll let you have your lunch; I apologize for interrupting."

Santana narrowed her eyes and turned to Charlie studying her carefully. Charlie seemed horribly confused by the whole thing and she decided to let it go. This whole thing was odd, but ever since Charlie had found out that her father was behind her kidnapping she had thrown herself full heartedly into being a Los Angelicos, even taking the tattoos. She was loyal and more importantly she had become her best friend. As far as she knew Charlie wanted nothing to do with her old life. "Bacon cheeseburger tacos, because Finn needs to put on _more_ weight. It's an abomination."

Charlie ignored her glancing at the woman who was scurrying out of the restaurant once more. She hadn't been called Quinn in years, it was something to mention but right now the food was getting cold. "Eat up, I made plenty. If you don't like it Santana, you can sit there and watch us enjoy our meals."

Santana muttered under her breath but took a seat and grabbed a plate, when they finally left LA she'd show Charlie what a _proper_ meal was.

~O~

"Tell me again." Quinn demanded, pacing in her large office. "Word for word. How did you even find this place?"

Rachel sighed. "My driver knows someone who knew someone."

"And you thought it was _just_ a Mexican restaurant?" She asked again, disbelieving.

Rachel bit her lip. For an actress, she also knew she was a terrible liar. But she could see Quinn's irritation radiating off her in droves. "Yes."

"Bullshit. You're doing this for that pilot, right? For fuck's sake Rachel, of all of the stupid asinine ideas I can't _believe_ you would put yourself in danger like that." Quinn runs her hand through her hair.

"Can we just focus? I'm _sure_ it was her."

"Are you _sure_? Because I spent a good half hour having you ream me to shreds because you thought it was _me_. Now you think you just stumbled on my probably dead twin sister?"

"I _know_ you don't think she's dead." Rachel rolled her eyes. It was a point of contention that had nearly cost them their marriage. One which she was going to have to admit that she was wrong. "But yes, I'm _positive_."

"How did you know it was her? Did they call her by name?"

"No, Quinn. I have _eyes_. She turned around and like I said, I thought it was you. She asked if we knew each other and because I _thought_ that you had accepted an undercover assignment and I didn't want to get you in trouble, which might I add is not out of the realm of possibilities, I apologized and left."

Quinn turns to her wife. "And did any of them call each other by name? Did you hear anything at all?"

"Well one was called Finn—" Quinn paled at the mention and Rachel cringed, "And I think I heard them call the boss lady Santana before I left."

"Finn and Santana, you're _sure_?" Quinn presses.

"Yes, she yelled it earlier. There was also a guy with a mohawk, and I'm certain it was the Los Angelicos. I swear, she looked exactly like you." Rachel frowns when Quinn moves directly to her desk. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Quinn stopped what she was doing and looked at her wife, or whatever this was. They were separated and it didn't mean that she didn't love Rachel. This had been mostly _her_ fault, but you didn't get an office like this by simply sitting around. "There are plenty of things that I don't tell you. That I _can't_ tell you."

"I mean about your _sister_. I saw her, clearly you didn't know that she was in the States, that she was so close by. She didn't look malnourished, she looked fine. And that guy with the mohawk—he said mommy and daddy are fighting again. I played a cop once remember?"

"It was a guest appearance on a soap opera!" Quinn snips at her. "You don't know the first thing about being a cop, she's been missing for close to fifteen years. She's probably doing whatever it takes to survive!"

" _This_ is part of the reason that we are separated. You don't value my career."

Quinn threw up her hands in exasperation. "You play _one_ cop on a soap opera and you think you're the next Nancy Drew."

"Who was it that helped you when you were off in Quantico? It was me, you talked with me you studied in front of me. I helped you with flashcards, and everything you needed to succeed, so _it has nothing to do_ with the role that I played and more to do wit the fact that I _know_ what I'm talking about. Sure I didn't graduate top of the class in Quantico, but even _you_ said that I was excellent at people watching and I'd probably do well going undercover."

Quinn gritted her teeth and ran a hand through her hair, "That still doesn't make you a cop."

"Of course not, but it doesn't mean that what I heard was wrong either. I'm _trying_ to help."

"You were trying to get yourself killed," Quinn responds pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache coming on.

Rachel swallowed slightly annoyed, and still feeling slightly ashamed. "The Los Angelicos are the most benign of the gangs, I checked, unlike the other gangs in the area, they're the least violent. I didn't approach them in the middle of the night, I walked in and my driver knew exactly where I was. They weren't going to _kill_ me. It's not like I mentioned that I am currently married to an FBI agent."

"Rachel, what if they had recognized you. They could have checked your name and mine would have popped up and it's not like I'm _hiding_ the fact that I'm an FBI agent." She was on the fast track, she suspected her father was pulling strings but she didn't feel like confronting him about it. "People meet their doppelgangers all the time it's possible—"

"She _made_ bacon hamburger tacos, said it was something that her mom used to make for her. It's her. The way she looked at me after I said your name—she was mildly annoyed by it. I know acting and she wasn't acting, the surprise on her face it was only for a moment before she looked irritated. It was _her_." When Quinn didn't say anything Rachel sighs, wondering if Quinn was upset with her because she had accidentally stumbled upon her long lost twin. "Quinn—"

"It's been nearly fifteen years Rachel, if she's been in LA—I've been—everyone's been looking in the wrong direction. All my trips down to Mexico? They've been for nothing. Checking my DNA against every Jane Doe that is found. It can't be her. It just _can't_."

Rachel exhales slowly, suddenly realizing why Quinn was so upset. If what she had said was true, then in all that time Charlie hadn't attempted to contact her. "Quinn, you're right about one thing, it's been nearly fifteen years. Who knows what hell she was put through."

Quinn clenches her jaw. Could Charlie really have been _here_ the whole time, right under her nose? If so, she should have found her earlier. How many _years_ had she wasted chasing what would only be dead ends?

Rachel had been married to Quinn for long enough to know what _that_ look meant. "You've done the _best_ you could. But I _know_ it was her. So maybe we set up a stakeout, assess the situation."

Quinn nods, it's a plan and that's more than she's ever had. "That's actually a really good idea."

"Of course it is." Rachel grins at the praise. "I can pick up snacks—"

"Snacks?" Quinn shakes her head, finally snapping back to reality, and turning to her wife. "No— _no_. You are _not_ coming. I'll take Brittany, she's good at this sort of stuff. Extractions and what not. Hostage negotiations, you know that sort of thing."

Rachel blinked and she couldn't help the flare of jealousy that crossed her face, "Brittany?" When they had separated Quinn had gone to live on Brittany's couch. She had wondered of course, they'd been close friends since Quantico and she worried about their relationship. It was hard not to like Brittany, tall beautiful and blonde and her personality—she was a ray of sunshine.

If Quinn heard the jealousy she certainly didn't say anything. "Thank you Rachel," she glances at her for a moment. "I'll let you know what we find. Are we still on for dinner next Friday?"

Rachel gaped at her before screwing her own mouth shut and turning on a dime. She spun out of Quinn's office, slamming the door behind her. If Quinn didn't think she could do it then she would prove her wrong. It was _just_ a stakeout. It wasn't like anything could go wrong and she was _tired_ of Quinn doubting her abilities. She was a _professional_ and she had read every single word of Quinn's FBI manuals. She could do this just as well as Quinn could.

Quinn watched her wife depart with a fond sad smile. "Guess not." She frowns.

~O~

Santana glances up from her tablet as she feels arms wrap around her waist, "Oh? What did I do to deserve this?" she asks tilting her head back so she could rest it on Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie was quiet for a moment, thinking about the day. "Nothing, you were still a dick today."

Santana raised her brow, and looked up at Charlie carefully for a moment before swatting her arms. "Fine, I'm busy then."

Charlie peeks over at the tablet and smirks. "No you're not. So pay attention to me because we don't have long before Puck realizes I escaped and come in here to try and drive us insane."

"He's a child, they all are," Santana grumbles moving so she could look at Charlie better. She eyes Charlie cheekily. "Well if we don't have much time. Get to it and suck me off."

Charlie arches her brow playfully, crossing her arms in front of her. "No."

"No? _You_ said we didn't have a lot of time. Get to work."

"First of all, why don't you eat _me_ out for a change," Charlie ticks off her points on her finger, "And secondly, I'm not giving you one more blow job until you learn how to aim."

"I know how to aim." Santana defends.

Charlie's brow simply arches higher in disbelief. "Of course you do."

Knowing she was caught, Santana shrugs. "Maybe I just like people knowing what's mine."

"Well _maybe_ we don't have time for me to get cum out of my hair before Finn and Puck stumble back in here." Charlie waves her hand dismissively as Santana grumbles under her breath and moves pinning her down. Charlie glances up at her for a moment, "I know you're worried about business, so if you need too—"

Santana groans and rolls over. Her father was _finally_ giving her more responsibility, was finally letting go of the reigns. "I need to show _all of them_ that I can do this. It doesn't matter if my father tells everyone I'm the next head I need to prove it. They need to feel secure that I'm the best choice."

"You _are_ the best choice, and working yourself into your grave isn't going to change that." Charlie assures. She drags her hands along Santana's abdomen slowly before her hands slide into Santana's pants running her fingers along Santana's length.

Santana groans pleased with the attention as she starts to get hard, she really didn't know what she did to deserve this but if Charlie was in the mood to have sex with her then she wasn't going to question it. "It'll make you happy wouldn't it?"

Charlie's tilts her head slightly to look at Santana hearing the need in her voice, to say their relationship was a complex mess of emotions would be putting it mildly. She didn't quite know what Santana felt for her. There were days when she couldn't stand to be around Santana and there were days when she didn't quite mind her presence. They didn't do the romantic feelings that came with being a couple, she wasn't even sure that they were a proper couple. She doubted that they were ever going to get married, and despite pressure from Santana's parents, she was never going to be pregnant with Santana's demon spawn. "I suppose it'll have to do," she says after a moment.

Santana wrinkled her nose at Charlie's lack of enthusiasm. This was something she'd be working for her entire life and now she was close, Charlie's enthusiasm on the idea seemed to dwindle. She puffed out her chest a bit hoping that the next words would please her. "Once I'm in charge I'll keep my promise you know."

The words cause Charlie to raise an eyebrow as she drags her thumb over Santana's tip for a moment, teasing her. There were things that she didn't truly wish to discuss with Santana and this was one of them. She was still a toy, still a slave to Santana's desires and whims. She understood Santana better than anyone, she could rationalize and compartmentalize certain aspects of who Santana was. She had never forgiven her, she had simply learned to live with it. She gave Santana excuses, blamed her upbringing. She understood Santana's want more than anything, she felt that need to be loved and adored by someone. She just couldn't bring herself to be the one to give it to her. "I know." She finally lets go of Santana's member causing the shorter woman to whine a bit and look at her. "I'm going to go do a sweep."

Santana groans—it does _not_ sound like a whine no matter what Charlie's damn smirk seems to suggest about it. "A sweep? You'd rather do a sweep than this?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Fuck you."

"I believe that's why you're so whiney." Charlie teases playfully. If the others could see her now, Santana would never be able to live it down. It fills Charlie with a weird sense of satisfaction that she's the one who made Santana feel this way—but it still didn't change things. Not really. Santana was still who she had always been and Charlie is the last person who will ever forget it.

Santana glowered angrily. She promised Charlie that she'd never force her again but sometimes Charlie really pissed her off. "Fine. Are you coming back, or do I have another date with my hand tonight?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Charlie?" This time it is most definitely a whine and Santana can't bother to care. But Charlie's cackle of laughter is almost enough to take the sting out of her pathetic neediness.

"Don't be such a baby. I'll be back—unless you're too much of an old lady to wait up." Charlie stretches a bit and moves towards the door glancing at Santana and watching her start stripping down, and she accused Puck of being a child. "Give me ten minutes."

"You have five," Santana called out.


	7. Chapter 7

Brittany watched Quinn take a large bite of her double bacon cheeseburger. "Just because you're separated doesn't mean you have to give yourself a heart attack."

"I left remember?" Quinn shrugs, "Which means I can have as much bacon as I want. Can we talk about something else?"

"We're on a stakeout," Brittany observes. She's known Quinn for a while and can smell her bullshit from a mile away. "There isn't much to talk about except the _normal_ stuff. Like the fact that you and Rachel need to get back together and be happy. You can't stay in my guest bedroom indefinitely. It's super awkward when I want to have sex in the kitchen with Mike and I remember that you're living with us."

"I can get my own place—"

"That's not what I mean and you know it." Brittany hums as she studies the street carefully watching people pass them by without noticing them. "I mean that Rachel is _good_ for you, and she loves you even when you're being a butt."

"I am not—I am not being a butt! I'm _protecting her_. You know she wanted to come on this stakeout—"

"She wanted to spend time with _you_ , butt face. That's a good thing. Maybe you should have let her, I mean it's not like—"

"This is _the_ Los Angelicos. Sure in Rachel's eyes they might be the least violent of all of the major gangs in LA, but they are the largest criminal syndicate in North America." Quinn picks up the telephoto lens to catalogue the car that pulls up in front of the diner. "Excuse me for trying to keep her from dangerous situations."

Brittany sighed and turned around in her seat pulling out a metal briefcase, "This is just a simple extraction right?"

Quinn eyed the briefcase warily watching as Brittany opened it. If it had been anyone else she would have called it a rape kit. Where in the world did Brittany get her hands on chloroform? "Right now? It's just seeing if Rachel was right and my twin really is _here_. I'm not sure if we can extract her. If they do have her then I want to do this by the book. I want to bring in every one of those bastards."

"Well if you were just going to sit here like a creeper, why did you invite me?" Brittany asked huffing as she put down the bottle of chloroform. "Rachel could have totally stayed in the car; I mean it might have been a bit of a distraction but you know how these things go. There's a lot of waiting around for stuff to happen. I'd bring Mike if I could."

Quinn smirked at that, "Really?"

"For the chance to see him dress up in black spandex because he wants to 'blend in'? Of course I would." Brittany smirks.

"Gross."

"Way to be mature, Fabray." Brittany rolls her eyes and grabs a couple of chips to munch on. She takes note of another car that pulls up in front of the diner slowly, coming to a stop while three people get out of the car before taking off again. "Here we go."

"That's them." Quinn frowns but snaps quick pictures of the three now entering the diner. Santana, Puck and Finn all are easily identifiable from the pictures they have on file. "She's not there."

"Maybe she was driving the car?" Brittany suggests, hopefully.

Another car passes, this one without its lights on and Quinn quickly snatches a picture of the license plate. The car turns the corner and moves out of sight. "What if—Rachel tipped them off and they took her underground? _Fuck_ —"

"Rachel couldn't possibly have known. She might have been doing something foolish but you can't possibly blame this on _Rachel_." Brittany interrupts and pats Quinn's leg. "We'll just have to keep tailing them, moving someone out of the country on such notice is near impossible." Brittany reaches over and flicks Quinn's forehead. "You beat me by two points back at Quantico, how about you start acting like you were the best recruit the FBI has ever seen."

Quinn flashes Brittany a small smile, she was right. She knew the training, "Call that plate in, we're going to find out exactly who owns it. There might be other players in this and I'm not going to be caught unaware this time."

Brittany grins, that was the Quinn she knew. "Right calling in the plate," Brittany says as Quinn hands her the phone. She calls up their analyst who she charmed into waiting around on standby. This might not be an _official_ op, but they really are trying to do all of it by the book. "I need plate history for Arizona JKT675 and California 9PYL484."

Quinn waits, hoping that this isn't just another dead end. She looks over when Brittany gives an indelicate snort of surprise.

"Um, are you sure?" Brittany asks, glancing over at Quinn. She closes her eyes. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"Is it a dead end?"

"Not exactly. The first one is a bogus plate." Brittany shrugs, it could still be nothing but there was hope. "The second one belongs to—well—don't get mad."

"Is it Los Angelicos?"

"No." Brittany cringes. The car from before comes back down the street with its lights still off, passing them once more at a snail's pace. "Fuck—I mean crap—I mean _Rachel_."

"What?"

"That's _your_ car. Well, yours and Rachel's," Brittany repeated not noticing a person in a hood darting in front of the slow moving vehicle, forcing it to come to a halt. Brittany grabbed Quinn's arm tightly, "Don't. We can't alert them to our presence. Let me take care of this."

"That's my _wife_!"

"Quinn, I've _got this_. We always knew that there was someone who was in charge of Los Angelicos security and this must be them. I've got to move now, so we can disable them, you need to tell Rachel to go home."

"Right." It was times like these that she was grateful that Brittany was her partner. This was bordering on _illegal_ that she was sure off.

Brittany slides out of the car just as Quinn hears Rachel calling out to the figure in front of her car. "Excuse me, but I'd like to continue on my drive." Silently, Quinn rolls down her own window to not only get a better shot of the exchange but to hear everything that is going on.

Thankfully, Rachel causes enough of a distraction wherever she goes that the hooded figure remains focused on her, oblivious to Brittany's approach. "I was worried when I spotted your tail ages ago, but seriously even I can see that you aren't a pro. So what's the plan egging the store front? Or did my _boss_ do something to offend you. Get in line. I'm afraid most people want to kill her, not toilet paper her restaurant but I'll keep a spot open for you." Charlie freezes for a moment when the glass rolls down revealing Rachel's face. " _You_ —I knew there was something—"

Rachel smiles brightly at her. "Charlie Fabray right? I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Rachel Berry-Fabray. I'm your sister-in-law."

It's a moment of shock and it's all Brittany needs to slip behind Charlie, wrapping a napkin with a dab of chloroform against her face. She feels the woman slump in her arms and she can't help but look at Rachel. "That wasn't every smart," she lectures keeping her voice down. "Now open your trunk. We need to get to a safe house."

Rachel gaped. "I helped take down a criminal." She breaths.

"No." Quinn corrects, coming up beside the driver's side. "You almost got yourself killed. Now let's hurry before someone sees."

~O~

Charlie groans when she feels herself returning to consciousness. Her head pounds and her arms ache and when she pulls at them she realizes she must be handcuffed because they stay at that awkwardly uncomfortable angle above her head. She chuckles to herself, immediately regretting it when her head throbs even more. Santana is never going to let her live this down.

"—the hell were you thinking?"

"Relax, Quinn. It's been over an hour. I'm _sorry_ that I had to help you solve the investigation that's been driving your career, but without my help—"

" _Help_? Your help is when you take out the garbage. This was—"

Charlie sighs, trying to block out the voices that seem to be just making this all worse. This was hell, she was sure of it. But, she had her gun tucked into the holster on her ankle so apparently whoever it was hadn't bothered to search her. She peeked one eye open, glancing up at her immobilized hands. Zip ties, she could handle that. A simple dislocation of her thumb and she'd be free. She tilts her head ever so slightly to look at what she was doing when she noticed another blonde staring at her. She stops what she's doing and stares back, it was unnerving.

Brittany takes another bite of the apple that she was eating. Rachel was right it was like looking at Quinn if she ever stayed out in the sun for a few weeks, and that sun bleached hair. She also had freckles, it was absolutely _adorable_. "She's awake."

The words are enough to cause Quinn to turn around, tabling the argument that she was currently having with Rachel to look at her twin. 14 years, 253 days. She couldn't believe that's how long it had been. "Do we really need to cuff her?"

"We're being _cautious_." Brittany reminds her. "Stockholm Syndrome is a thing, and she's been missing for fifteen years."

Charlie chuckles to herself. Apparently they weren't being _that_ cautious, because she still had her gun and a clear plan of escape. It was risky, but she was certain Quinn wasn't going to _shoot_ her. She needed to get back before Santana decided to do something stupid.

Quinn nods, Charlie would have shot Rachel earlier, it made sense after all that time. She exhales slowly and approaches her twin slowly, like she's a wounded animal. They had never looked so different, Charlie had _tattoos_ , and the hair and her clothes. "Charlie, it's _me_. Everything is going to be okay. You don't have to be scared anymore. You're safe, I'm going to make sure that no one hurts you ever again."

Charlie stared at Quinn for a moment, she hadn't spared a thought for her in _years_. She wasn't part of Quinn's world anymore and this was bordering on painful. "Thanks?"

Rachel frowns at the awkward silence in the room. "Can we get you anything, Charlie? Anything at all?" The way Quinn spoke about Charlie, she supposed she thought Charlie would be emaciated and frail if she was alive at all. Instead she was tan and strong, the way Quinn would be if she gave up her life at the FBI and devoted her time to surfing or some other outdoor activity.

"A pizza?" Charlie shrugs. She figures it's probably a waste of time to ask to be let go, but they aren't exactly _keeping_ her here.

Rachel had expected more than such a nonchalant response and nods slowly. "Sure. I'll order one."

"With breadsticks, _oh_ and see if they have cookies. Cookies too."

Quinn shakes her head sadly, still overwhelmed at the thought of _finally_ rescuing her twin. If she had been able to take a step back, she might have noticed Charlie's ambivalence toward her rescue. "What happened to you?"

"You mean when I was kidnapped and tied up in a basement?" Charlie scoffs.

Quinn nods, eagerly. She's desperate to find out where she's been, _exactly_ what happened all those years ago.

"Well I was driving down the streets of LA when some crazy person started following my friends and I—"

"I—" Quinn coughs uncomfortably, the use of the term friends concerns her. Maybe Brittany was right about the Stockholm syndrome. The Los Angelicos were nobody's _friends_. "I mean, what happened to you before?"

"Oh." Charlie feigns understanding, too amused not to be an uncooperative shit about this. "You mean the first time I was kidnapped and tied up in a basement?" Charlie shrugs and turns her attention back to Brittany. She was the most dangerous person in this room and she couldn't let her guard down around her. "I don't want to talk about it? Is that an option that I have?"

"Of course," Quinn says agreeably, she doesn't want to spook her. "You don't want to talk about it. That's understandable, given everything you've been through."

"Most people who are kidnapped aren't kidnapped twice in their lifetimes, so I suppose I have been through a lot," Charlie muses mostly to herself.

"I _rescued you_ ," Quinn insists immediately. "I saved—

"Chloroforming counts as rescuing these days?" Charlie cocks her head to the side. "I'll have to remember that."

Quinn exhaled slowly, this was good. Charlie was still her snarky self, if she had kept that then maybe her sister was still in there somewhere. Except she doesn't quite know what to say, this was what she had spent her entire career working towards and there wasn't some tearful reunion, she hadn't busted down a door to find Charlie strung up. "I never stopped looking for you," she says finally.

Charlie frowns and opens her mouth to retort, when Rachel slips back into the room with a huge smile on her face. "I ordered you a bacon pepperoni pizza, Quinn used to tell me how it was your favorite." When Charlie barely looked at her the smile on her face slipped off and she sighed. Charlie was staring at Brittany who was simply staring back. What was it with the Fabray women and Brittany! "Quinn you're going to need to tell your father. He's always wanted to know where you were with your case. Now that you've found her—he's going to be so proud."

Quinn tilted her head towards Rachel, missing the way her twins body stiffened. "He's going to use it to his political advantage is what he's going to do." She turns back to her twin, "He missed you. You disappearing it wrecked him. Mom too—"

"Quinn—" Brittany warns.

But Quinn is too deep in her thoughts to notice the disgusted curl of Charlie's lips or the soft pop that came from Charlie dislocating her thumb. "—I bet he'll fly right out here. He's running for President now, I don't know if you knew that," Quinn turns to get her phone.

Brittany stands. "I don't think that's a good idea—"

"Of _course_ it's a good idea. We can be a family again." Quinn glares at Brittany who glances over at her partner for just a second.

That split second is enough for Charlie to slip free. She scrambles for the holster at her ankle and frees her gun in one smooth motion. She clicks off the safety and pulls the trigger only to hear the dull click of an empty firearm.

The sound makes Brittany snap around, instinctively pulling the trigger on her stun gun, sending prongs barreling toward Charlie and catching her right in the chest. Charlie seized as the prongs sent electricity coursing through her body. Brittany winced, but kicked Charlie's firearm free, glad that the combination of chloroform and low voltage Tasers had managed to subdue Charlie up until this point. As much as Quinn might not want to admit it, Los Angelicos had a new head of security that no one had been able to identify. It was too close, _too much_ of a coincidence to ignore. She was _right_ to have emptied all the bullets from Charlie's gun and despite what Quinn thought this wasn't going to be some easy fix.

Quinn stared at the sight of her twin passed out _again_ on the basement floor.

Brittany shrugs. "So that turned out about exactly how I expected it to." She surmises.

Quinn turned on Brittany carefully. "What the hell! After everything she's been through!"

"She pointed a gun at you and pulled the trigger Quinn, this might be a bit more than Stockholm Syndrome. She got agitated when you mentioned your father—is it possible she ran away?"

"You saw the video of the abduction; my _father_ has a bullet hole inside of him from where he tried to fight off their attackers. You saw her struggle when they grabbed her. She was abducted, plain and simple. Whatever they did to her, whatever they threatened her with must have led to this."

Brittany frowned and turned back to Charlie for a moment she'd need to do a proper job of containing her, Quinn was currently blinded by the fact that her twin was back in her life and couldn't see that Charlie was a danger to all of them. Snatching a member of Los Angelicos was going to have _consequences_. "Quinn, right now we need to keep this between us. We can't tell anybody, especially since we _abducted_ her. So until we can get her to talk I think the best course of action is that we just keep her here for twenty-four hours."

Quinn frowned that had never been the plan, she had always planned to bring Charlie home, not kidnap her back and keep her for twenty-four hours. "She needs time to heal, she needs to see people so she can get better. We can't just throw her back to the wolves! We can't abandon her."

Rachel exhaled, her heart had stopped when Charlie had pointed that gun at Quinn, there had been no hesitation, just a grim look on her face. She was inclined to side with Brittany in this particular situation. Charlie was a danger to everyone in the room, "Quinn, you're right, but you _can't_ force her to come back with you. She's a person, she has a mind Quinn. It's been a long time and she just pointed a gun at you."

Brittany hummed as she zip-tied Charlie's legs again and pulls out her handcuffs, cuffing her arms behind her back. It would hold her for now, but they were going to need to find a slightly more permanent solution to keep her contained. "She's right Quinn."

"You could have _killed_ her." Quinn protests.

Charlie groans then, almost as evidence that Quinn is overreacting. "Relax, she's fine. But I'm serious. We can't blow this, especially if you want the people responsible to pay. We are federal agents and this absolutely counts as unlawful imprisonment, possibly even cruel and unusual punishment. So we _have_ to keep this under the radar." Brittany reasons. They have to be careful about how they handle this. "Otherwise any information we gain could be thrown out because it was obtained illegally. So I _don't_ think you should call your dad, at least not yet."

"We _rescued_ her."

"Sure." Brittany placated quickly. "But we're going to be here for a while until she realizes that, right?"

Quinn frowns, but nods slowly. She didn't like thinking that this horrible chapter of her life was still continuing, but she would do right by Charlie no matter what. "Rachel, could you maybe run home and get some clothes? Supplies and stuff for the next few weeks? I'm not sure how long I'll be here, but—"

"Whatever you need." Rachel pauses and looks at Charlie for a moment, "What about her? I mean she should fit into some of your clothing, it'll be a bit tight especially around the arms—but she'll fit."

Quinn crinkles her nose and turns to Rachel, a brow raised. "Are you admiring my _twin_?"

"Well, if you worked out a bit then she wouldn't need to." Brittany commented cheerfully.

Charlie rests her head against the wall as she sits up, she fucking loathed tasers. Her eyes flick to Quinn for a moment escaping had just become a bit harder, but they had to sleep sometime. "She's going to find me you know. She's going to find me and I'm not sure if I can stop her from killing you."

There was hope that Charlie was going to be okay. Maybe the reason Charlie had reacted, had pulled a gun on her was because she was afraid. "Don't worry about us, we can protect you." She sighs when Charlie lets out a derisive snort, what had she seen that made her doubt her words? This was going to take time and she needed to get her twin to trust her again. Maybe she had given up hope that she would ever be found, whatever it was she would fix it. She had too.


	8. Chapter 8

Puck exhaled slowly before knocking on the door to Santana's room. He had drawn the short straw for this suicide mission. Next time he'd make sure it was Finn who got to tell Santana the bad news. "Hey boss—can I come in?" He pops his head into the room, wincing at how dark it was. "Boss?"

"I told you I didn't want to see your face unless you _found_ her. So if you don't have her with you then go _fuck_ yourself Puckerman." Santana snaps harshly at him, not bothering to look up. She didn't have time for this.

Puck studied Santana watching her pace around the room. This wasn't good, Santana hadn't been in this type of mood in _years_. They had all assumed it was because she was getting laid more frequently. Which was a good thing, it meant that he didn't have to be worried about getting shot at. "You also asked for updates—we approached all the big gangs in the area, you know the ones that could possibly be looking to stand against us and take our territory. None of them have made the moves, no one is stupid enough to do it. Everyone knows that every single gang that has stood against us ends up getting dismantled by the Feds."

" _Somebody_ was stupid enough." Santana insists angrily. She slams the book closed. "I don't care if we have to go back to the bloodiest damn war in our history. Somebody took her." It was the only thing that made sense. Charlie had just disappeared in the middle of Los Angelicos territory.

Puck grimaced. "Are you sure? Because it's looking more and more likely that she just left."

"I know you aren't stupid enough to have said that." Santana glared at him. It wasn't just that she was some lovesick teenager. Charlie had done too much; she was _one_ of them. She wouldn't just leave.

"Well unless the goddamn Feds have her, we have _nothing._ "

"If the Feds had any idea of who she was, we would have heard something." Of that, Santana is sure. Russell Fabray had more to lose than they did.

"Well then who the _fuck_ has her? Your father would never let you start a war over Charlie of all people. Think about it Santana—she just randomly notices a car is following us and then she walks out? This is her first time back in the states in years, maybe this was part of her escape plot!"

"Charlie didn't _leave_. She's not stupid."

"Santana—"

"Leaving would mean that I'd have to hunt her down and kill her." Santana runs a hand through her hair and looks at Puck seriously, "Why would she leave when I promised her that the moment that I became head of the Los Angelicos she could walk away? That she could _leave_ on her own accord without worrying about Los Angelicos or anyone else coming after her."

Puck stops staring at her for a moment, "You did what? Why?"

"That's none of your _fucking_ business. What is your business is _finding_ her." Santana retorts, she didn't have something to throw at his head or she would have. "You tell them, you fucking tell all of them that she's a member of Los Angelicos and that she needs to be found. I'd do the same fucking thing for any one of you."

Puck nods and is about to go and try and push the men harder when he stops, thinking back on the last few days. Nothing particularly stood out, it had been business as usual except for that weird woman who had approached them in Abuela's. "What about that actress—you know the one that wanted to follow us around? Didn't she call her—what did she say?"

Santana stopped pacing completely and looks up at Puck, everything clicking immediately. "Quinn, that shitty little hobbit called her _Quinn_." She could kick herself, why hadn't she followed up on that?

Puck frowns slightly not quite sure what's going on as he watches Santana dive for her tablet. "I don't get it? Who the fuck is Quinn?"

She can't be bothered to spare him another glance as she types in Quinn Fabray into the search engine. It was so obvious and it should have alerted her that _something_ was up. No one had ever called Charlie by her twin's name in years. But she had simply ignored the crazy woman, because she was a crazy hobbit. It takes her a moment to realize that the pictures that she's looking at _aren't_ of Charlie cheating on her. In fact Charlie hadn't been that pale in years. "Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry's wife." Santana turned the tablet around so Puck could see the damn pictures. "Recognize any hobbits?"

"That's that actress chick that tried to follow us around." Puck says slowly and looks up at Santana. "You think her twin has her?"

Santana turned the tablet around and clicked on the profile, it didn't say much, but it said enough. "Right now, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"So we go in there guns blazing and take her back right? We know who she is, and we can find her address, I mean what do we pay those dirty cops for? If not for shit like this?"

Santana tossed the tablet at him, watching as he fumbled with it for a second before catching it. Her righteous indignation had faded away; this situation wasn't as simple as she liked to pretend it was. Charlie was _safe_ relatively speaking, so long as Russell Fabray didn't find out that Charlie was no longer in Los Angelicos protection.

"She's _FBI_? Santana, we might have strings but even we can't talk our way out of a dead FBI agent!"

Santana flicked her brown eyes at him for a moment, "I know," she stresses.

"We also can't kill Russell's other daughter, not without your father's permission. He'll turn on Los Angelicos and it won't matter how much shit we have on him." Puck adds.

" _I know_."

"Then what the hell are we going to do?" Puck asks, they couldn't leave her in the hands of the FBI.

Santana exhaled slowly as an idea formed. It was risky but maybe they could keep it contained completely. "Find me the damn hobbit."

~O~

Quinn watches her wedding video fondly. They had been so happy, she almost wondered where it all had gone wrong. She's been at this for days, desperately trying to get her twin to see even a snapshot of what she had missed. "I really wish you could have been there. That day was perfect."

Charlie had her head back, leaning against the wall that her back was to. Her hands were still cuffed over her head, and she was starting to get a damn back ache.

"Charlie?" Quinn prods. Maybe she's finally gotten through to her, she feels the hope surge within her.

"I'm not dead." Charlie grumbles. Once upon a time she had thought isolation was bad, but at this point she'd do anything to go back to those days. "I'm just _bored_."

"How could you be bored?" Quinn stands up. "I'm showing you my _life_." This is all she had ever wanted. To have Charlie safe and taken care of and show her how much she was missed—how much she _belonged_.

"Well your life is fucking boring. I thought sitting through an opera was bad, but seriously—kill me now."

"Don't say that." Quinn snaps. "You're my sister. It's been three days Charlie, and you still act like you hate me."

"I do hate you." Charlie quips. It's not entirely true, she doesn't _hate_ Quinn. But thinking about her family and her past, it's complicated. She hasn't had to worry about any of these painful feelings and memories for years and yet Quinn seems content to show her this picture perfect life. So what if Quinn went to some fancy college and did all sorts of fancy pretentious shit? Charlie didn't care, and she _especially_ didn't care since Quinn was good enough to be the child their father kept.

Quinn stops, her mouth dropping open in horror. She didn't mean that—she _couldn't_ mean that. "Charlie—"

"Is this why you kidnapped me? So you could show me how fucking perfect your life has been?" Charlie continues now properly agitated. "You _chloroformed me,_ you had me _tased_ , and now you're torturing me with all this stupid information about your life. Newsflash Lucy, I don't care. So how about you let me go and you go back to your perfect life and pretend that I'm dead. You've been dead to me for all these years."

Quinn sighed and shook her head. She refused to believe Charlie was that far from the twin she used to share everything with. "You've been brainwashed, but I can help you. You just have to let me—"

"How do I get it through your thick brain damaged skull. I do _not_ want your help. I don't _need_ your help. So let me go and we'll forget we ever saw each other."

"Charlie—look, I know you aren't yourself, I know you don't mean this, but they stole you from us and broke our family. As soon as you left—"

"Was kidnapped—"

"Everything went to shit." Quinn continued.

"Quinn, I know you've got some idea of how our family was supposed to turn out. It probably has sunshine and rainbows and unicorns that shit butterflies." Charlie shakes her head derisively, pulling against her chained hands to shift her position. "But guess what? Our family was already broken, everything had _already_ gone to shit. Me being taken wasn't the cause of that."

"Our life wasn't _perfect_ but mom wasn't drinking, not that badly. Dad left to try and save the world and I was left by myself. Everyone thought you were dead, everyone told me to move on with my life, but I never once stopped searching for you. I never once thought that you had died. We have a bond—"

"Sharing a womb for nine months—"

"I know you can feel it; I could tell when bad shit was happening to you. I could just feel it, sometimes I'd wake up in tremendous pain and I'd wonder what the hell they were doing to you. We had that twin thing remember? I broke my arm and you _felt_ it. You felt it and cried with me remember. You're my twin, and I knew you were alive and I did this. I went to school, I joined the FBI so I could find you. So that I could bring you home." Quinn swallows glancing at her phone which had begun to buzz on the table next to her. _Rachel_ , she'd have to call her back this might be the breakthrough that she needed to have with her twin.

Charlie glanced at the phone for a moment, in the entire time that she'd been here Quinn had only received texts never phone calls. Even Brittany simply texted. "You know, if I were you I'd pick that up."

It's the way that she says the words that causes Quinn to reach for her phone immediately, realizing that it wasn't a simple call but Rachel was facetiming her. They only did that when Rachel was on location somewhere. She fumbles with the phone before answering it. There is a lag as the call connects and her blood runs cold when she sees her _wife_ , Rachel, gagged. "Rachel—"

"Do I have your attention?" Quinn nearly felt her heart stop when Santana Lopez stepped into the frame. Her eyes were hard and Quinn had no doubt that she would kill Rachel without a second thought.

" _You_."

"I don't want to hurt her. Just a straight exchange, Charlie for the Hobbit."

"And why would I trust a _criminal_?" Quinn spits.

Santana simply arches her brow.

"Oh, you're in deep shit now." Charlie scoffs, squirming a little. She was getting a bit hot around the collar. There was something to Santana coming to her rescue that was both embarrassing and a turn on. It probably had more to do with her messed up feelings towards Santana. She couldn't just hate her, she couldn't love her properly either, but this was nice. It was also a first.

"Shut up." Quinn spat, pinching the bridge of her nose. What the hell was she supposed to do now? How hadn't she seen this coming? Charlie had been taken, _abducted_. She should have known that whoever had Charlie would have come for her. But none of this had been planned, and she wasn't about to give into the whims of some sadistic criminal. "No. I'm _not_ giving you my sister."

Santana sighs and pulls out her gun. She doesn't cock it, she doesn't even point it at Rachel but the sight of it and the implication is enough to make Quinn's stomach sink. "I'm going to text you the location. You have an hour. Don't be _stupid_."

Quinn is about to say something when the call ends. She immediately hits redial, she needs to get a location on Rachel's phone. Maybe she could log into her Find iPhone feature or get them to ping the nearest cell tower. They had kidnapped her wife. She needed to figure something out and quickly. Maybe informing her superior about what had happened—they could mobilize an entire team to take down Los Angelicos.

"Do you love her?" Charlie questions leaning her head back against the wall. She could hear the gears turning in Quinn's head and the last thing that she needed to do was have Quinn do something terribly stupid.

"She's my _wife_ , _of course_ I love her." Quinn snaps at Charlie turning to her angrily. How had this all gone so wrong? "Just like I love you and I'm not going to consider—"

"You are. You are going to make the trade. It's what our family does Quinn, we make decisions and we live with them. If it makes you feel any better, you're keeping me here against my fucking will. I've been pleasant about it, I mean I've been kidnapped before but I have a life and I have people who apparently have no problem fucking with the FBI just to save my sorry ass. Which is more than I can say for _this_ family. So untie me and we'll make the switch."

That is enough to make Quinn stop. It's not the first comment that Charlie has made, but it pings something inside her that she can't really let go. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_ that Santana is volatile and an irritable bitch on her best days, you _really_ don't want to leave Rachel in her hands and you sure as hell don't want to be the one that keeps her waiting. So let's go, this has been fun in the way that I hope we never want to do this again."

"So you just want me to hand you over to the monster that stole you from our family?" Quinn scoffs. It's ridiculous. This is exactly why she had never wanted to date anyone; she had never wanted anything that could detract her from getting Charlie back. But Rachel had wormed her way into her life, and even though they'd had problems Rachel was her _wife_.

"You aren't, handing me over to the monster that stole me from the family," Charlie insists plainly. "You're handing me back to the person who gave me a family and a home." She doesn't add that Santana had destroyed her and rebuilt her in ways that Quinn could never understand, instead she just holds out her hands. "Your wife for me. No hard feelings."

Quinn stares at Charlie for a moment. It's an impossible decision, but Charlie was a stranger and she'd never forgive herself if anything happened to Rachel. She knew where Charlie was and she'd be able to try again. With a sigh she reaches for the keys to the cuffs.


	9. Chapter 9

"I never should have agreed to this, it's a terrible idea." Quinn begins eying the abandoned warehouse. There were no camera's and perhaps she should have brought Brittany along but there hadn't been any time, she felt guilty. Charlie was her sister—one that had been kidnapped and god knows what had happened to her, and yet here she was returning her twin to quite possibly the people who had taken her.

Charlie studies Quinn quietly, she had been beating herself up the entire drive and it was annoying. "You agreed to this because you wanted to save your wife from Los Angelicos and you only had an hour. You agreed to this because I didn't want to stay in your basement for the rest of my life. I've seen enough basements to last me a lifetime. Stop complaining Quinn, I need you to stop complaining and do the trade. Go back to your perfect life and your perfect and slightly idiotic wife."

"Perfect life?" Quinn echoes looking over at Charlie. " _Perfect life_? I've spent my entire life dedicated to finding you. I've chased down every lead, every rumor of your existence, but I couldn't find you. I was looking in the wrong place—we identified your kidnappers but no one ever saw them again." Quinn pressed looking for some answers. But Charlie's face was a mask of indifference, what had they done to her? "Charlie—you don't have to go back; we can do the trade but give me something so I can come rescue you again. So I can _find_ you again."

"I didn't need to be rescued Quinn, I don't want you to find me again. Get it through your head Quinn, the person you're looking for has been dead since the first night that I spent in that basement. The reason you don't recognize me is because I'm a fucking survivor. You have no idea the shit that I've seen or been through, or what I've done to survive. You look at me and see me as some lost sixteen-year-old but that girl's been dead for years. I'm _one of them_. I will always be a Los Angelicos."

"You can't mean that."

"Of course I mean that." Charlie's fingers itch for a cigarette but she's fairly sure Quinn's not going to stop and let her pick up a pack. She didn't have a problem or anything, but if Santana wasn't around to help her get the edge off than a pack of cigarettes would do. "They were there for me; they are my _family_."

" _I'm_ your family."

"We shared a womb, get over it already. I already did." Charlie turns to look out the window.

It's enough to silence Quinn for a moment, wondering if she was too late to get through to her sister. "So you're saying that if was me, if I had been the one to disappear all those years ago you wouldn't have done everything in your power to find me? To _protect_ me? That you'd just let everyone think I was dead?"

Charlie tore her eyes away from the window to look at Quinn, "You have no _fucking_ clue, what I did to protect you. But you were always the _favorite_ , always perfect even then. And I went through _hell_ to make sure that they didn't kill me and take you, fat lot of good that did. You were protected. Always have been."

"So you blame me." It was Quinn's worst nightmare.

"Of course I don't _blame_ you. It's not your fault that you were perfect." Charlie shrugged, it had been years and despite Santana's attitude she was right, she had made choices. She had chosen to save her own skin by sleeping with Santana, sure there had been a gun placed to her head when she had made that choice but she had never fought it.

"I'm not _perfect_ ," Quinn insists immediately, "I'm _not_." She's quiet for a moment as the car stops at a red light, "When you were taken—everything was _fucked up_. _Everything_ , mom hit the bottle pretty hard and started to do pills, dad buried himself in his work and for a few weeks I _hated_ you. I hated what you had done to the family, I know it wasn't your fault. It's not like you ran away from home; you were _taken_ in a brutal way. I mean they _shot_ dad, and I dyed my hair pink, you know—to rebel—to get attention. I even got an ironic tattoo, which thankfully I had removed."

Charlie turned to study Quinn carefully, she couldn't believe that they were having this conversation. That Quinn for one moment thought that a few momentary acts of teenage rebellion changed anything. She had it all, she had a wife who loved her, she had the freedom to do what she wanted whenever she wanted. It made her want to hit something, "I'm so glad that you could cover up your mistakes," Charlie snips. "Look, let's just get to the exchange point. You found me. Yippee, you have confirmation that I'm not dead, even though I might as well be."

"Look you just need some time to reconnect with normal people, you need to be around normal people not—not criminals. I know you think that they're your family but that's just brainwashing, they _kidnapped you_. They did—god knows what to you—but they _broke you_. They turned you into _this_ — _this_ monster and I don't know how to fix it." Charlie doesn't say anything in response, and she had hoped that her emotional plea would have done _something_ anything but it's impossible to tell if she had gotten through to Charlie. Instead she sighs and finally turns off the main road. It hurts to see the _relief_ flash across Charlie's face as she pulls up to a dark Escalade.

Charlie practically jumps out of the car and Quinn rushes to follow her. "We don't have to do this." She reminds. If only they had a little more time, she _knew_ she could figure out a way to get Rachel back without sacrificing Charlie.

"When are you going to get it? I'm _not_ the girl you remember. Do you have any idea what things I've done; what things I've _chosen_ to do for Los Angelicos? I'm not some sniveling victim anymore." Charlie shakes her head and takes a step toward the Escalade.

Santana slips out of the driver's' seat, and Charlie's relieved grin falls a little. This exchange is far too dangerous for Santana to have left herself out in the open like this. It's reckless and as head of Santana's security Charlie is furious that she'd take such a stupid risk. She's _definitely_ going to give her a piece of her mind.

Santana opens the back door and unceremoniously drags a blindfolded and gagged Rachel out of the car. Charlie arches her brow with a smirk. The blindfold is just smart, but— "Was the gag really necessary?" She calls.

"Fuck yes it was." Santana smirks. "This one is annoying as hell. I don't know that my eardrums will ever be the same."

"Rachel," Quinn takes a step forward only to have a gun pointed directly at her chest causing her to stop in her tracks. Instead she forces herself to tear her eyes away from Rachel for a moment and glare at Santana. It was _all_ her fault. She had found Charlie and now her next goal was to start taking the Los Angelicos down brick by brick until she got to Santana. A bullet between the eyebrows was to good for someone like her, no she wanted this _monster_ to rot in solitary forgotten for all the pain and suffering she had caused their family.

"No sudden movements." Santana spits, dragging the annoying munchkin along with her.

Quinn shows that her hands are empty, she should have brought Brittany along. Or one of the snipers, but she couldn't alert her bosses to the cluster-fuck in front of them. All of this was unsanctioned and she didn't want to destroy Brittany's career as well. "She isn't—you didn't hurt her?"

Charlie shrugged off Quinn's hand her eyes running over Rachel. Apart from the gag and the blindfold she _seemed_ perfectly fine. "Of course she didn't." Charlie informs Quinn bluntly taking a step towards Santana. She doubted Santana could care less whether Quinn's wife lived or died, but killing the wife of an FBI agent was _not_ something that Santana could just walk away rom. "She needed insurance to get you to let me go."

Santana narrowed her eyes at Charlie for a moment, what had happened between the two of them. "Charlie. A menos que quieras que tome estas vacaciones no programadas tuyas como un intento de escape, anulando nuestro acuerdo, entonces pon tu estúpido trasero en marcha."

Charlie frowns and waves her hand, "No escape, alguien me drogo . Luego me electrocutaron, me encadenaron a una maldita silla. Me escoltaron a un baño y me permitieron una ducha. Parece que tengo el don de que me secuestren y encontrarme en algun sotano."

"Dios tu español es terrible." Santana sneered at Charlie, shaking her head. She shoves Rachel forward gripping the back of her shirt.

Charlie takes a step forward only to have Quinn grab her arm, "No, you send Rachel over first." When Santana gives her a look, "You kidnapped her. How do I know—"

"Pot, meet the fucking kettle." Santana retorts. "Honestly you'd be doing me a favor by taking her from me, but you're not getting her until Charlie's right beside me."

"No, you're a criminal who kidnapped my twin sister, you've got her brainwashed or something—you don't get to make the demands here," Quinn grips Charlie's arm tighter. She could still come out of this on top. Brittany was probably already at the house for her shift, which meant that she had probably found the note and was on her way here. All she needed to do was keep this going for as long as possible.

Santana tilted her head at Charlie, a frown gracing her face slightly. Charlie hadn't sold out Russell the first chance she got. Quinn still seemed to believe that she had kidnapped Charlie and perhaps she had, but the reality was she had simply made a purchase. "I don't have time for this," Santana snaps pointing the gun at Rachel's head. "Let go of her or I swear to god—"

"Enough," Charlie snapped cutting Santana off. "Quinn, I'm going home and you're going to let me go. You want your wife back and don't think I don't know that you're hoping that Brittany manages to get here. But so we're clear the longer that Santana is here the higher the chance that neither you or Rachel walks out of here alive. Not to give you hope or anything, but I don't actually want to watch Santana kill you. Killing FBI agents is bad for business. And it would be problematic for the Los Angelicos." Killing Quinn would mean that Russell would get involved. She yanks her arm from Quinn's and steps toward Santana.

When Charlie is far enough to be out of Quinn's immediate vicinity, Santana shoves Rachel forward, sending the bound woman tumbling to the desert floor. "It was _not_ a pleasure doing business with you. I would advise you to leave us the fuck alone."

"I will _never_ stop looking for you." Quinn promises.

Charlie rolls her eyes and gestures for Santana to hand over the gun. Reluctantly, Santana hands over her pistol. She gets that without a weapon Charlie feels vulnerable and she's got a backup just in case. Charlie turns and quickly points and pulls the trigger, the bullet embedding itself in the front tire of Quinn's car before Quinn can even react. "Stay away from me Quinn, next time I won't miss."

"Espero que sea el ultimo Fabray que tengamos que ver." Santana grumbles. "Quien sigue, tu madre muerta?"

"Prefiero que sea ella a ya sabes quien." Charlie retorts. "Al menos mi madre podía hacer tacos."

Santana opens the door to slip back inside with a shake of her head. "Esas espantosas cosas no están ni cerca de ser tacos."

Charlie laughs and with one last look at her twin who seems to be frozen in shock, she walks over and slides into the car.

When their car starts and pulls away Quinn jumps to action. She springs to Rachel's side even as her mind tries to catch up to what had just happened. "Rachel, speak to me they didn't hurt you did they?" She pulled the gag out of her wife's mouth.

"Hurt me?" Rachel reached up with her bound hands and yanked off the blindfold. "That was _incredible_."

"Incredible?"

"How many actresses do you know that were kidnapped by a major criminal syndicate. I should sell the rights to this or _produce_ my own film! I couldn't play myself of course, but I could direct!"

Quinn stared at her wife, a pleased smile tugging on her lips. She _really_ couldn't blame Santana for gagging Rachel, she had probably asked a million questions with no regard to her safety, all in pursuit of furthering her art. She leans forward and pulls Rachel into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're okay."

~O~

"Santana—" Charlie began wincing when Santana slipped out of the car. There hadn't been much talking on the way back. To suggest that Santana was irate would be an understatement. She had been missing for three days, there was a good chance that Santana hadn't managed to get business done because of her disappearance. She needed to convince her that this wasn't some escape attempt.

Santana walked briskly back into their new hotel, they had switched cars three times as a precaution to make sure that they weren't followed but the damage had already been done. This trip had been an unmitigated disaster and she was currently trying to do damage control in her mind. Russell finding out that Charlie had been stateside would be disastrous as would her father finding out that her head of security had been 'kidnapped' by the FBI. It raised questions about Charlie's loyalties, had she been turned? If this was anyone else she would have put a bullet through their eyes, but why was she hesitating now?

The answer came despite every attempt to convince herself she was wrong. She wasn't going to eliminate Charlie, not now and not ever. It didn't matter what questions were raised or what loyalties were questioned, there was not a revelation in this world that would let her pull the trigger and put a bullet through Charlie's head. She had offered Charlie her own damn gun. It unsettled her, throwing her entire world off-kilter. She's barely aware that Charlie is trailing after her, too loyal for her own good, as she tries to make sense of all of this. She finally makes her way through the door of the large suite and she's glad when Charlie doesn't even hesitate to follow.

"Look, I wasn't _escaping_ or whatever stupid shit you're thinking." Charlie finally manages to get out the moment that Santana closes the door and locks it.

That causes Santana to snap around. "You think I'm an _idiot_? Of course you weren't escaping. I single-handedly rescued you from Idiot One and Idiot Two."

"Oh." Charlie furrowed her brow, surprised. Santana didn't _give_ second chances and she had neutralized people that had been in less compromising situations. "Yeah, I guess you did. Thanks?"

"I couldn't _leave_ you. The Hobbit kept mentioning how she and your twin were vegan and I can't imagine that you would live long in such a hostile environment." Santana rambles a little before she is able to stop herself.

Charlie wrinkles her nose in disgust. Well it explained why she had preferred Brittany's food than when Quinn attempted to feed her. "I'd rather they kill me."

Santana frowned and entered Charlie's personal space, forcing her back against the wall, she pins her there, making sure not to touch the younger woman. "This _isn't_ funny Charlie. Most of our men think you bolted at the first opportunity. They are going to question you; they are already judging you—"

Charlie glances at Santana for a moment and then looks at her arms, she knew that look in her eye. She knew that even though Santana was saying something different that she had been worried, that this had been an _escape_ attempt. "I've had a million opportunities to escape and I didn't. I got chloroformed by some crazy blonde—but we can figure that out tomorrow. I'm _tired_ Santana and they kept me in handcuffs—so can we do this tomorrow?"

"No, we're not doing this tomorrow." Santana insists angrily. She moves to rest her hands against Charlie's arms but stops herself. "We're not doing this tomorrow; I need to know— _fuck_ —let me touch you."

Charlie arches her brow. For the spoiled, entitled asshole that Santana normally is, that sounded awfully close to a plea and not some barked order. She's not in the mood for sex, and certainly not in the mood to deal with Santana's need for possessive sex but there's something about the look on her face that makes Charlie pause for a moment. She studies Santana for a moment, Santana got possessive if she so much as even looked at someone else, there hadn't really been anyone else. "I—" A look of desperation crosses Santana's face and Charlie nods wordlessly, letting Santana's hands immediately grip at her arms as she felt the shorter woman's lips crash against hers, with enough force to bruise them.

It takes a moment before Charlie's hands are against her hips working on her belt, and she's tearing through Charlie's shirt trying to quell her growing unease. She can't _explain it,_ her emotions, and she's glad that Charlie doesn't quite seem to notice that something's off.

~O~

"You shouldn't have gone without me," Brittany frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "What were you thinking? It could have been a trap! Or you _both_ could have died—are you even listening to me?"

Quinn frowned and looked up at her, she felt guilty she should never have gotten Brittany involved in this, or Rachel or _anyone_ for that matter. This was _her_ cross to bear and already things had gotten out of hand. "She gave me a time limit Brittany, Charlie basically outright stated that Santana would kill Rachel if I didn't show."

"There's _protocol_ —" Brittany began trying to talk some sense into Quinn. She had seen this before, Quinn was going to attempt to do this alone. It was destructive and given what had happened to her car this situation was becoming more and more complicated. She had simply assumed that Charlie had some form of stockholm syndrome, it had been _fifteen_ years. But that wasn't what had happened at all.

"We broke protocol, you know that and I know that. If we had gone to the Bureau they would have had our badges. Not to mention as far as the law is concerned we _abducted_ Charlie. She made it clear that she was a Los Angelicos—I don't know what the fuck they did to her. I can't even begin to imagine what she's done to survive. What I do know is that those monsters had Rachel, so I made a decision. Rachel for Charlie for _now_. I'm going to save my sister, but to do that I can't put anyone else in danger that's why—"

"It's a bit late for that don't you think?" Brittany interrupts. "If you didn't want me to be involved, then you shouldn't have asked me to extract your sister to begin with. I'm in this with you, and honestly taking out a dangerous drug cartel sort of sounds like fun."

Quinn made a face, she was surrounded by crazy people. "Britt—"

"You can't do this alone and you're going to need someone to watch your back, so don't even attempt to go off and do this on your own," Brittany cut her turning as the bathroom door opened and Rachel came out in one of Mike's baggy hoodies. "Tell your wife that I'm not going to abandon her on a suicide mission."

Rachel's brown eyes turn to look at Quinn who immediately looks back at her computer. She felt guilty and she was not going to let Quinn go back to the person she was when they had first met. She had been _miserable_. "Of course you're not, we're _all_ going to help." Brittany and Quinn turned to her immediately at that statement but she ignored their looks. "As you both know, I'm _fluent_ in Spanish after I took that role—"

"Rachel," Quinn sighed rubbing her temples. "I love you but get to the point."

"They spoke in Spanish the entire time that I was there. I of course pretended that I knew none so they felt comfortable talking in front of me. There seems to be some discontent amongst the men, and it took me awhile to figure out that they kept referring her to Santana's toy. One of the men mentioned that Santana was throwing a tantrum because her toy had run away."

It's enough for Quinn to close her laptop and shift all her attention to Rachel, she had never been so grateful that Rachel took her roles to a ridiculous degree. "Toy? What does that mean?"

"Well we've known that Santana has a very good head of security, and her inner circle is incredibly tight. We're not going to be turning anyone—but if your sister was picked up by the heir apparent then she must be in that inner circle," Brittany mused.

Rachel bit her lip, she didn't really want to break the news to Quinn but she had promised to help. "Well, one of the _less_ polite members said that she was Santana's bitch—the language he used well—it wasn't polite but the gist of it was that Charlie is Santana's property."

"That—makes sense," Brittany mused looking over at Quinn who had gone pale. "It would certainly explain why she was so invested in the Los Angelicos, and if she's a member—well you know what happens to women members of these gangs." She murmured the last part, the last thing she needed was Quinn losing her head.

"You think—she didn't seem— _fuck_. I just handed her back to the person who—who probably— _fuck_."

"We're operating under the assumption that Charlie was kidnapped by the Los Angelicos, it's possible that they _rescued_ her and she began to date this Santana person, we don't actually _know_ what happened. She never told us," Brittany immediately intervenes before Quinn could have have a full blown panic attack.

"Right—anything else that you overheard? Like what they were doing in LA?"

"No, but I did hear something weird during the exchange," Rachel admitted. She frowned for a moment before recalling what was said. "' _Espero que sea el ultimo Fabray que tengamos que ver.'_ That line, basically it roughly translate to I hope that's the last Fabray that we ever have to see. I wouldn't have thought it was odd, but it was how she followed it up. 'Quien sigue, tu madre muerta' which roughly translate to 'whose next your dead mother?' I thought it was weird because—"

"Charlie should be more concerned with your father," Brittany finishes looking at Quinn. "You don't think—"

"He would have told me if he had seen Charlie, if the two of them had a conversation," Quinn shakes her head immediately.

"She did freak out when you said you were going to call your dad," Rachel points out helpfully.

Quinn narrowed her eyes immediately, Charlie had been hiding something and there were things that stood out when they had talked. "I think that I need to have a talk with my father."


	10. Chapter 10

Santana draws her fingers along the bruises on Charlie's hip. She had probably grabbed onto them to tightly last night, it wasn't her fault that Charlie bruised easily. Still—she resisted the urge to pepper kisses along the bruises and instead focused on attempting to shove the guilt back in the closet. She was Santana Lopez, future heir of the Los Angelicos, she wasn't supposed to _do_ guilt. She was also not supposed to want to wrap her arms protectively around the younger woman, it was far too intimate an act.

"Will you _stop_ thinking so loudly?" Charlie grumbles, she can feel Santana's gaze and her fingers along her body. Santana was probably in the mood for morning sex and she would rather sleep in. It was odd though, Santana was the deep sleeper between them, and the one that generally insisted on sleeping in.

Santana freezes for a moment, she had thought that Charlie was asleep, but she shrugs it off internally. "Sorry," she murmurs not truly feeling the apology.

The _apology_ is what forces Charlie to pop one eye open. Something was clearly wrong, Santana Lopez never apologized. She twisted history to suit her and rarely ever took responsibility. It was her most frustrating quality and redeeming quality, though that was something that she'd never admit to Santana. It was far easier to bitch about it then to admit that she found it slightly amusing. She stretches a bit, she had been warm and almost cuddly and after the last few days all she wants to do is stay in bed with Santana beside her these feelings that she was having were becoming problematic. "Don't be weird."

"I'm not being weird." Santana retorts immediately pulling away from Charlie.

"You're being weird. So the question is: what's wrong with you?" Charlie sits up and grimaces when she sits up and realizes that Santana's gotten cum in her hair again. She really did have the _worst_ aim, maybe she needed glasses. She'd book an appointment for an optometrist later.

Santana raises a brow and doesn't say anything right away, it's _far_ too early in the morning to come up with something believable. But she needed to shove Charlie away and give her the time to put her walls back up. Charlie was far too observant for her own good. "My parents have been adamant about children." It has it's intended effect and Charlie immediately curls away from her.

"You _are not_ putting a child inside me." The thought of something—Santana's demon spawn growing inside of her made her skin crawl. It was also more permanent than a tattoo. She could get the tattoo removed, she had no idea what she would do with a child.

Charlie's tone causes Santana's lip to twitch and she immediately looks away. "I figured as much," she said as she rolls out of the bed and grabs a robe that's nearby. "I was just thinking of something to tell my father."

"Tell him that I'm—what's the word infertile. Tell him that we checked, apparently getting stabbed a few times left some scar tissue and it would be impossible to get pregnant." Charlie says smoothly. "You'll finally get to put your dick into someone else, it's a win-win situation."

"Right." Santana agrees distractedly. She covers herself up and turns toward the door.

Charlie narrows her eyes. Now she _knows_ something's wrong, Santana had never hidden her body with her. Instead Santana being naked was usually followed with requests for a blowjob. She reaches out and grabs Santana's wrist before she can get too far away. " _What_?"

Santana stared blankly at Charlie for a moment, wondering how to even begin to sort through the mess of emotions in her mind. She swallows and then smirks she knew the perfect set of words to get Charlie to roll her eyes and leave her alone, "Just don't go killing them because you got jealous. You know you can always have some of my dick whenever you want."

Charlie let's go of Santana's wrist immediately and makes a disgusted face. "You _disgust_ me."

"That's not what you said last night. I'm pretty sure you begged me to fuck you harder. How are you feeling? Going to be walking funny today?" Santana continues, even though she wasn't in the mood to mock Charlie. Her words have their intended effect, Charlie was predictable at times like this, and the younger woman immediately rolls out of bed and begins to grab her clothes. It shouldn't bother her this much, and there's a part of her that wants to ask Charlie to stay for a while. It's enough to give her pause, when had she _cared_ enough to ask Charlie what she wanted. She shakes the thoughts out of her head. "Have you decided how you're going to convince the men you aren't some sort of mole? You do realize that if this was anyone else that I would put a bullet in their head just to be safe right?"

"Yes Santana, I'm aware that my most _recent_ kidnapping by my sister was _inconvenient_ for _you_." Charlie replies acidly as she looks for her underwear. "It's been _fifteen_ years; one would think that that they would realize that I've had a million opportunities to run. I haven't despite the fact that this gang has put me through hell."

"I _gave_ you a choice—"

"Yes, that's what my family does. We make decisions. Quinn made a decision to save her wife instead of running with me. I don't blame her; I did point a gun at her twice." Charlie shrugs her shoulders as she puts on her underwear and heads to the bathroom so she can wash her hair out as best as she can.

Santana's quiet for a moment, she hasn't even asked. "Do you—uh want to talk about it?" Charlie lifts her head up from the sink and pokes her head out the bathroom door and stares at her. "About your twin sister. Your family—you know whatever? I only ask because fancy hotels like this overcharge for the smallest amounts of alcohol, and I am not _paying_ for you to get drunk. You still have yet to replace any of what you took the last time."

Charlie studies Santana for a moment she was being weird again. "She's not the one that betrayed me. So I don't hate her because of that, I hate her because she was the one that _he_ chose to keep. I was nothing but—" Charlie exhales and stills her emotions before shrugging. "I was a piece of trash that he could throw away. This isn't _her_ fault. I know that, Quinn didn't choose to be the favorite daughter." Charlie was quiet. She had spent many a nights thinking about it. Some nights it was _all_ she could think about. That sort of frustration and animosity didn't go away just because she wanted it to.

Santana sinks back to the bed. She doesn't quite know what to say and this whole feelings thing was out of her depth. "Was she always such a bitch?"

Charlie laughs at that. "Of course _you_ would think that." She smirks a little as a thought strikes her. "You know, the pair of you probably would have been friends. If the circumstances were different." Quinn probably would have been one of the many women who had pulled the trigger.

Santana pulls a face. "God I hope not. Me and Tubbers? I'm pretty sure we would have murdered each other. No, I know this may make me sound like an ass, but I would choose you every time."

Charlie looks away at that. There it was again, the uncomfortable reminder that _Santana_ was the only person on earth that ever chose her. Santana had put her first time and time again, and this time was no different. She made it incredibly difficult to hate her. "Maybe," Charlie shrugs.

Santana nods, suddenly wishing that Sebastian had made the trip with her. There were things she needed—wanted to discuss with him. "On that note, get your ass in gear. You need to talk to the men."

~O~

Brittany had known Quinn for years, as far as partners went, she was pretty sure that she was the the best partner Quinn could ever hope for. Yet—everything about the whole situation felt _off._

She had taken home case files on a hunch before, so this time really shouldn't be any different. Now that they had confirmation that Los Angelicos had been directly tied to Charlie's disappearance—however that happened—Quinn had become obsessed. Which was great, perfect even. Quinn was a rising star in the FBI for a reason and with the Los Angelicos in her sights, well she wasn't sure that their organization was a match for Quinn. She would definitely find _something;_ it was just a matter of when. Quinn was currently pouring over every scrap of information that contained anything about Los Angelicos.

But Brittany had a weird feeling about this. Something didn't quite add up and she had learned long ago that it was better to listen to her instincts when they pinged this strongly. So even though she was the best partner in the world and would support Quinn's investigation, she tried to take a step back. One of the worst things that could happen to an investigation was to get too narrow-sighted.

That's why she wanted to approach it from a different angle. Quinn was currently eating, drinking and sleeping with the Los Angelicos files and on a whim Brittany grabbed a couple of leftover boxes. It really wasn't supposed to reveal much of anything—just confirm that Los Angelicos were the worst bad guys the FBI had ever seen.

Only they weren't.

One curious note led to two, which led to her entire office being stacked floor to ceiling with local gang files of groups that were pushing into Los Angelicos' territory. She had expected to find the usual amount of gang activity, turf wars and retaliatory killings were the norm. What she had found was worse— _way_ worse.

There was nothing.

Nothing at all.

Every _single_ gang that threatened the Los Angelicos—whether by encroaching on their territory, moving similar product or just starting _rumors_ of competing with Los Angelicos—had been dismantled. Like clockwork, every single one was shut down and dismantled either by the DEA, the FBI or ATF. One or two major busts against a large gang would be expected but this was almost _methodical_.

There was only one explanation for this, and it made her sick to think about it. The evidence to put these groups away was _too_ perfect. Every single 'i' was dotted and the 't's were crossed.

There was a mole. No, that didn't quite make sense. No one was going after the Los Angelicos, there were a few busts here and there, but nothing major, no one was working on it. It was like that case up in Boston—the Whitey Bulger case, the FBI had allowed him to do whatever he wanted for some information. It had led to him consolidating power and getting more and more brash until they couldn't ignore it anymore. But Los Angelico's weren't making that mistake, they weren't killing people—no they were letting the FBI do it for them. Something like this was _huge_ , massive, and it took a lot of clout to pull off. Whoever the Los Angelicos had working for them had to be someone extremely high up on the food chain.

 _Someone_ —like a sitting senator and former presidential candidate. Someone like—" Brittany. Where's the Martinelli murder case-file? I think I'm on to something."

Brittany gestured to the large boxes of files. She was on to something too. "Quinn have you talked to your father yet?"

Quinn didn't bother turning around. "No. I've been avoiding his call. I'll tell him when I _actually_ have good news."

Brittany nods, Quinn wouldn't make the same connections that she would. Though now that she thought about it, Charlie's entire reactions were starting to make sense. She hadn't actually reacted until Quinn had made the attempt to call their father. "I think that you should hold off for now even when you have good news. Wait until the arrest warrants are going to be sent out."

Quinn paused and looked at Brittany studying her, Brittany was on to something. "You want to share your reason?"

Brittany's blue eyes swept over Quinn, she was way too close to this to see the bigger picture and implicating her father would _ruin_ her. "Not yet, but soon. Just don't do it until I get some sources alright?"

Quinn frowns as Brittany gets up to get her jacket, "I'll go with you—"

"Quinn—sit work on the Martinelli case file or go to your couple's therapy session that you're already late for. I'll be back later."

Quinn's eyes widened and she glanced at the time, " _Fuck!_ " She immediately began to grab her own stuff looking for her car keys. "Shit, _shit, shit_."

"Language!" Brittany admonishes watching as Quinn practically trips on her way to get out the door. It was enough of a distraction to allow her to grab a few other things that she would need. She had always been good at reading people even when they _didn't_ say anything and she needed to ask the question that had been bugging her all day to the one person who probably had answers. She just needed to figure out _where_ Charlie was and how she was once again going to separate her from the pack.


	11. Chapter 11

She's avoiding Charlie, she knows it and she knows how childish and cowardly it is. But she's the _heir_ apparent for the Los Angelicos, no one had the _balls_ to call her on it.

"Am I the only one who thinks it's weird that you had to go and save our _head of security_?" Finn asks watching as Santana dropped her hips and threw Puck across the mat. "I mean _yeah_ maybe she has pulled our asses out of the fire before, but I mean there were times when it was _close_."

Santana nudges Puck with her foot, of course these two _idiots_ would be the ones to bring her up right now of all times.

"He has a point," Puck muttered rubbing his elbow. He chooses to ignore Santana's glare as he swings his arm against her legs, catching her off guard. He moves immediately trying to end this sparring session before she starts letting her frustrations out on his face like she had the last time. Santana's already recovered and he barely manages to graze her. "You know she was supposed to _rescue_ me a few weeks back she let me get _shot_ at."

"She's _my_ head of security—"

"You mean your personal dick warmer."

Santana reacts faster than he expects and hits him hard and fast. The heel of her hand strikes out and catches him square on the nose making his vision blur instantly.

"Fuck Santana, I was only kidding." Puck cringes, trying to keep his eyes from tearing up at the pain.

"Yeah, well don't."

"Wait. _Wait_ , when did _that_ happen?" Finn asked shock evident on his face.

"Oh god, how fucking _stupid_ are you?" Puck demanded, he had always wondered why they were even friends. "They've been _fucking_ since Charlie was nothing more than her toy. Remember she wouldn't share?"

"I _remember_ that, I meant when did Santana fall in love with her?" Finn asked scratching his cheek, watching as Santana tensed up. "I mean, you two fight all the time, but she's still alive and you _like_ having her around." When Puck begins to make a strange gesture with his hand and throat, shaking his head he frowns deeply. "You know she always gets a goofy look on her face. You remember you said she smiled like a _fucking_ idiot after they fought the last time."

" _Dude_ shut the _fuck_ up." Puck hisses at his supposed best friend. Finn was a blabber mouth, he needed to be put down for his usual stupidity. At least that's what Santana always said. She wouldn't though, she had a soft spot for the idiot and he hadn't done anything monumentally stupid.

"No, let him speak, I want to hear about how you've been _talking_ shit behind my back _Noah_."

Puck gulped, there was no way that this ended _well_ for him. It made sense to simply go for broke. "You _love_ her."

"I _love_ her? Are you _insane_?" Santana scoffed, ignoring the pit in her stomach at the denial. "I kidnapped her and forced her to choose to either have sex with me or die at my hand. You think that's _love_? I mean she still thinks I raped her."

"I think you and Charlie are both fucked up enough that—"-

"Enough." The chill in Santana's voice stopped Puck cold. "Who else have you been running your mouth too?"

"Nobody." Puck promises quickly. Too quickly for Santana's tastes. "Nobody I _swear_."

All three heads turn when the door to the gym opens and Charlie steps through. She wipes some blood spatter from her face, turning curiously when she senses the tension in the room. "What?"

Santana glares at Puck so deeply he's a little afraid that he might catch on fire or something. _"Nothing_." Santana dares either Puck or Finn to disagree. When it's clear that they won't, she shakes her head. "I should be going—"

Charlie glances around the room once more, "Are you planning on killing me?" She asks bluntly, she'd walked in on these types of conversations before. Santana and Puck having quiet conversations, which usually ended up with a dead body. The three of them didn't know how to clean up after themselves. "Because if you are, can I at least go to Fatburger? Get a burger and some fries and a milkshake? Also, since I'm not going to fight it, can I just you know go visit my family home one more time?"

"We're not killing you, _moron_."

"You're not?" Charlie furrows her brow thoughtfully. Every bone in her body said that having her killed was the only option. It was the only thing that made sense.

Santana rolls her eyes and pushes past Puck. She should have known that he would only make this more complicated than it needed to be. "Do whatever you want."

"So we're going to Fatburger? Because I was serious about that burger fries and milkshake." Charlie said turning on her heel to follow Santana. "I mean I checked, we're not really busy and the men are sort of reeling after I finished proving to them I'm not a traitor."

Santana shrugs and picks up her step trying to lose Charlie through the maze of the gym floor. She should have known better, a glance over her shoulder confirms that Charlie is right at her heels. Santana stops and glowers when Charlie doesn't run into her but almost effortlessly anticipates Santana's every move and pulls up right beside her. "What do you want _now_?" She snaps.

"I told you. Burger, fries, and a milkshake." Charlie retorts.

"So go get it then!"

"Not until you tell me why you're avoiding me. Badly, I might add." Charlie narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

Santana stares at Charlie, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "I want to have kids," she blurts out. It's both a lie and the truth at the same time. She does eventually want to have her own little heirs, but at this moment she just needed Charlie to _back off_.

Charlie recoiled instantly, taking two steps back. "Not with me you're not."

Santana forces a lecherous grin on her face, "You sure? Who knows you might look semi-attractive being pregnant. I mean I'd still put my dick inside you if that's what you're worried about."

Charlie watched Santana for a moment. "You disgust me. I'm going to Fatburger I am not bringing you back anything, and I'm not sleeping in your room tonight."

"Good. We'll have sex in _your_ s." Santana said cheerfully, watching as Charlie flipped her off and turned to walk away.

"I'm going to order plenty of food and I'll eat it in bed so you _can't_ sleep in my room." Charlie calls out childishly. Something was definitely _off_ about Santana. She was deflecting, that much was clear but she had no idea what about. She'd take Finn out and grill him for information after getting him sufficiently drunk.

~O~

Rachel drums her fingers absently on the side of her chair as she looks at her phone once again. Nothing. She opens her text messaging app, just to be sure and bites down on the frown. Still nothing. Glancing up, she offers a polite smile to the receptionist who seemed to be cataloguing her every movement. "I'm sure she's on her way, you know how she gets."

"Right." The response is so placating and judgmental that Rachel struggles not to let it get to her.

"My wife is very busy." Rachel points out, not sure if she's reminding herself or the nosy receptionist. Honestly the only reason she put up with this office staff is that this was the only couple's therapist near Quinn's office covered by their insurance.

"If she's not here in five minutes, we'll have to reschedule your session, and a cancellation fee will be added to your account." The receptionist replies with a fake smile of her own. This wouldn't be the first time that she had needed to reschedule the Fabrays for couple's therapy and she personally doubted it would be the last. There was a bet between the other receptionists as to how long this relationship would last.

Rachel's fake smile doesn't falter, she could hear the judgement in the receptionist's voice. "She'll be here." She promises.

"Sure she will." The receptionist placates. Both of them know that Quinn probably _won't_ be here.

Under any normal circumstance she'd be furious at Quinn who had once again forgotten to let her know that she'd be late for the session; however, she did know her wife. The events of the week, which included her own kidnapping meant that her wife was probably overwhelmed attempting to bring the Los Angelicos to justice and desperately trying to find Charlie once again.

It's not like she particularly likes couple's therapy either.

She's about to say something when the door to the office swings open and Quinn stumbles inside gasping for air, her cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down her face as if she had sprinted the whole way here. She probably had. Rachel's smile turned genuine as she moved towards Quinn rubbing her back.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," Quinn admits as her breathing slowly returns back to normal.

"It's fine." Rachel assures, shooting a smirk at the receptionist who has turned away to look busy with something or other. It meant everything that Quinn was here.

Quinn watches Rachel skeptically. "It is?" She's been on the receiving end of hour long rants for far less and Rachel should be pissed.

Rachel kisses Quinn's cheek quickly. "Of course it is."

Quinn opens her mouth to argue only to have their name called. "Berry-Fabray? Dr. Pillsbury is ready for you."

"Why aren't you mad that I'm late?" Quinn insisted, rooted to her spot. She knew she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but this didn't make any sense at all.

Rachel pulled Quinn along, ignoring the prying eyes of the receptionist as they walk along the abandoned hall. "Well one, you actually showed up this time. That's progress. Secondly, after this weekend—I guess I can say that I saw just how committed you are to _us_."

"What the hell does that mean?" Quinn furrows her brow, confused as Rachel pushes open the door. Dr. Pillsbury isn't there yet, so she doesn't feel bad trying to figure out why the sudden change.

"It means that I know you love me enough to trade your sister for me." Rachel explains bluntly. "And now, I'm going to have to help you get her back."


	12. Chapter 12

**An: Haven't made one of these in a while, but I do have some news. I'm starting to look back at my old fics to see what needs a rewrite and what simply needs a swift kick in rear to finish. Since I have a plethora of other stories lined up and I'm working on for my backers, (Magician, Death to My Hometown, Animals) That was a shamless plug I've decided to start posting some other finished works so there's a slightly new schedule. One story will be published a chapter a month. That will be Hellfire. The other fic I Know What You Did Last Summer. Well I'm posting the first chapter this weekend, and once this story is done we'll continue with it. By that time maybe I would have finished another story. Also I've started to rewrite parts of True Love, but for that you'll have to wait. It's a slow affair, and my backers will get the updated version before you do. But look for that in the new year. I might look at The Original family after that, but rewriting is a very slow affair for me, so we might not get to that this year.  
**

* * *

Charlie frowned as she looked over her meal. She had a burger stacked three patties high with extra cheese and as many sides as she could get away with without earning too many side looks from the minimum wage worker.

Something about this didn't add up.

Well, not her lunch. Because that greasy cheesy goodness looked _amazing_.

No. She was starting to get the feeling that Santana was purposefully pissing her off. It was the only explanation that made any sense. She should have seen it earlier—would have seen it earlier—if she weren't so pissed off each time she talked to Santana. She takes a sip of her milkshake tapping her fingers against the table, it would certainly explain a lot of things. Santana was acting odd and instead of openly telling her to fix it, she was hiding behind her usual disgusting bravado. She preferred dealing with Santana when she wasn't being an annoying douchebag. "Well, two can play at that game," Charlie muttered. She'd simply meet Santana's braggadocios behavior with some of her own. She could throw Santana off her game easily. She'd just need to be careful not to fall deeper into the rabbit hole.

"I love games."

Charlie's head snaps up as Brittany S. Pierce slides into her booth with carrying a tray filled with her own burger and fries. She immediately reaches for her gun as Brittany steals a French fry from her plate. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Brittany cocks her head to the side, smirking softly as she watches Charlie closely. "You know, if I squint I can almost think you're her."

"Yeah, well I'm _not_." Charlie spits, swatting away Brittany's hand when she tries for another fry. "So cut the shit. What do you want?"

"Who says I want anything?" At Charlie's unimpressed look, Brittany sighs. It's almost creepy how much this feels like a conversation with her partner. Quinn can cut through the bullshit better than anyone else and she's not sure why she's surprised that Charlie can do it too. "I just want to talk."

"If anyone ever saw us _talking_ , they'd kill me." Charlie frowns.

Brittany shakes her head. "They _already_ should have killed you and we both know it. If they haven't done it now, then they won't do it for some simple little thing like me following you."

"I'm only going to ask this again: what do you want?"

"Well, first I want to tell you a story. I want you to stop me if you've heard this one before," Brittany took a sip of her own milkshake before placing it down. "A man, he's rich and powerful and more importantly he's important; district attorney. He was rather _successful_ at it; his conviction rate was insane. He took out multiple cartels. I think—and this is where the story is a bit hazy, that he made a deal with the devil—one that gave him information to use to further his career. So this _man_ makes a deal with the devil, uses that information for his personal gain, for the accolades and the power, and he decides that he wants to run for governor. So he declares but even with all his work, all his success, he's still twenty points down in the polls. So, again, I think that he goes back to beg the devil for help. As governor he would have more power—and if he lost now, then he'd be a _loser_. He wouldn't be able to keep up his end of the bargain, so the devil strikes another deal. The devil once again _agrees_ but it's going to cost him. The price is going to be high this time, one of his children. What better way to induce panic, then to create a _bogey-man_ , one that terrifies the parents because they have no idea if their kid is going to be next. How easy is it to blame it on the _immigrant_ , the cartels that are just across the border that are nothing more than criminals? The man of course doesn't hesitate, and he agrees. He has two children, identical twins, in his mind it's basically the same—"

Charlie takes a noisy sip of her own drink cutting Brittany off. It's a struggle to keep her face a mask of neutrality.

Brittany takes this as a signal and pushes onward, "—and at this point he's already in too deep. He does the unforgivable and sells his youngest daughter to the devil who guarantees his career's future success. How am I doing so far?"

Charlie gulps, trying not to seem affected. She shrugs. "That _man_ —" Charlie spits out the word like it's poison on her tongue, "sounds like a real dick."

"He is, but indulge me." Brittany leans back in her chair. "I don't think I know how the rest of it goes. Maybe you can finish it for me?"

"I think we're both a little old for story time."

Brittany simply waits, hoping that her silence might get her the answers she needs.

Charlie looks at her half-eaten food and gets up, her appetite long gone. She flicks her eyes to Brittany, "You know, you're wrong about something. It wasn't the _devil_ that the man made a deal with. It was an angel. Now whatever you _think_ you know, I suggest you tell Quinn that she needs to let this die."

"There's only so much I can do before Quinn takes everything she knows to your father. How do you think _that_ is going to go?"

"What makes you think that I _care_?" Charlie sneers.

"The fact that you didn't shoot me the second I stepped in here." Brittany points out. "Or maybe the fact that you didn't even _try_ to escape when we both know that you easily could have. Especially with Rachel looking over you."

Charlie frowns at that, uncomfortable with the well placed observation. "Well, if what you think your story is correct, then who knows what he'll do to her once he knows that she knows."

Brittany frowns as she tries to follow what Charlie had said. "Who knows—" She shakes her head, giving up. "Exactly. Quinn needs our help."

"I don't _care_ what Quinn needs." Charlie insists.

"See, I don't think that's true." Brittany insists, "Because Quinn loves you more than anything, enough to spend the last fifteen years searching for you—"

"Well she did a _terrible_ job. Fifteen years?" Charlie rolled her eyes.

Brittany continued on as if Charlie hadn't spoken, "You spent the last fifteen years making sure that they never came after her. To make sure that they never needed anyone other than you. How many times did you have something done to you because you were afraid that they were coming after Quinn?" When Charlie doesn't answer Brittany presses forward, "I just need _something_ —"

"Look, take your theories and shove them up your ass. Also while you're at it stay away from me. You are _going_ to get me killed." Charlie hissed, she had heard enough. They were idiots, them digging into this would get them killed and put Santana in a bad position, and she was maybe a year or two out from living out the rest of her life in freedom. She makes a face, wondering what favors she was going to need to do for Santana to get them to _back_ the hell off.

~O~

Quinn smiles, picking at her salad while Rachel finishes some elaborate story. Tonight has been amazing and she's terrified that she's going to do something to shatter the fragile footing she and Rachel have found together.

Rachel looks at her wife pointedly. "You're distracted." She concludes with a playful smirk. It's the only way Quinn could still be listening to her after her nearly thirty-minute monologue.

"Yeah," Quinn admits breathily. When Rachel raises a brow she coughs and straightens up, "I was thinking that maybe we can go back to your place and maybe have some coffee—"

"It's _our_ home Quinn, it's not just _my_ place, and you've been welcome back any time you wish." Rachel responded, shaking her head and reaching for Quinn's hand. If Quinn wasn't so hard on herself, maybe they would have figured this thing out forever ago. But then, she wouldn't be the Quinn that Rachel adored.

Quinn sighs. She just doesn't want to fuck this up again. "With everything that's going on, Charlie and everything—I mean I found her and I thought it'd be over but it's not. Not yet but it will be soon—I just never thought it'd be over, and now? I thought about it you know, not for long but I've started to think about what comes next."

"You become the director of the FBI?" Rachel recites, well aware of the plan. It's been Quinn's plan as long as she's known her.

Quinn snorts, "I wanted to become the director so I could use FBI resources to find out what happened to my sister. I figured it out. Now, I'm not so sure. I was thinking—that maybe when this is all done if you're not busy working on your HBO special we take a vacation together? So maybe we can figure it out together?"

"Really? You've worked so hard at this—"

"I did this because I needed to find my sister. Everything I've done since she disappeared—most of it, has been about her and I—well I _did_ let it take over my life. But I know the best thing I did was marrying you, it was also the first thing I did for myself and I think that I want to—you know do that again, start living for me."

Rachel drops her fork, floored. She thought the fancy dinner at a new vegan restaurant was a stretch for Quinn, but this is something else entirely. "Really?"

Quinn nods, "Yeah. I'm serious about—"

 _NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA BATMAN!_

Quinn flushed as people turned to stare at the two of them, as she fumbled for her phone. " _Brittany_ ," she hisses.

NA NA NA NA NA NA—

Quinn flicks the little switch on the side of the phone, immediately switching it to silent. "Sorry—Brittany was probably fiddling with my phone again. You know how she is," Quinn shook her head.

Rachel nods, "I do—you should get her back with something equally embarrassing, and wait till she's in the middle of getting—frisky with Mike and then call her, it's what I would do."

Quinn laughs, "I've never seen Britt angry but—" Quinn's smile fades as her phone begins to vibrate rapidly. "It's Brittany again."

"Go ahead." Rachel assures. "It might be important."

Quinn watches Rachel for a second, trying to be sure that this wasn't some trick. There were _plenty_ of times that Rachel had been pissed at her for taking Brittany's call in the middle of a date and she didn't want to blow this when they didn't have any pressing active cases. "I'll be fast." She promises.

"It's fine." Rachel squeezes Quinn's hand comfortingly. "Go." Quinn slides out of her chair quickly heading to a private area where she could take the call. Rachel smiles watching her, it was what she had always wanted if she was being truthful with herself. She wanted Quinn to be a bit more selfish, everything in their lives had revolved around Charlie, and now there was an end in sight. It wouldn't magically fix all their problems, but it did give them a real chance for the future. She reaches for her wine and takes a sip of it before pausing as she hears a phone vibrating.

Immediately she reaches for her clutch only to realize that it wasn't her phone as some terrible death metal begins to blare from Quinn's purse. She winces when the people at the tables around her start to turn and glare at her, she had forgotten about Quinn's second phone and she grabs Quinn's purse and fishes it out. She was most definitely going to have a talk with Brittany the next time she saw her. She glances at the name on the phone and rolls her eyes. _Russell_. Taking a breath, she answers it if only to stop the evil glares, "Mr. Fabray?"

 _'Oh.'_ Russell pauses for a second and Rachel is fairly certain he has checked to see if he had dialed the right number. _'Rachel. Is that you?'_

"Yes, Quinn and I were at dinner and she stepped out for a moment." Rachel explains, trying to keep her voice down to avoid annoying any more people beside them.

 _'Oh. Are you un-estranged then?'_

It's the most considerate that he's ever been. He had stopped ignoring her existence which was probably a good sign. "We're working on it. Things—have been good for Quinn lately."

She's met with silence on the other line and almost feels compelled to fill it. Quinn used to tease her about her word vomit issues but Russell makes her nervous and he's never cared this much about their relationship. In fact, she was surprised that he hadn't boycotted the wedding all those years ago. "Yes. She's finally moving on, now that she's found the answers she's looking for, I think we're really going to focus on our future together."

 _'She what?'_

Rachel stops, cringing. "She didn't tell you. Oh no." She takes a deep breath. "I know she's excited to talk to you, but just—maybe pretend I didn't say anything?"

There was another pause on the phone for a moment, _'This conversation never happened._ ' Russell says after a moment.

Rachel smiles and is about to thank him when the line goes dead. She frowns at the rudeness, but Russell had always been curt with her. "I think he's finally warming up to me though, so that's a positive—"

"My dad?" Quinn asks sliding into the booth a frown on her face. Brittany had gotten a crack in the case and she needed to show her something important. She wasn't going to rush out on Rachel though. "Please tell me you said no to whatever event that he needs me for."

"I did, he actually said more than three words to me. I think we're finally getting along great. I understand he was upset about the whole you're gay thing, but I think he's coming around."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "He'll come around when he figures out how to best use your star power for his next presidential campaign."

"Is it weird that I'm looking forward to that? I'll be putting on an Oscar winning performance."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "He's not _that_ bad." She says more out of loyalty than that it was actually true. Growing up he had been the perfect father, every little girl's dream. But after Charlie disappeared and her mom died, something had changed. He had grown distant and things felt awkward for no reason that Quinn could put her finger on. Sure, she had lashed out as a kid, blaming him for a situation that she now knew he couldn't possibly have controlled, but sometimes it felt like more than that.


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie Fabray felt a lot of conflicting emotions as she stormed into Santana's hotel room, making sure to slam the door behind her. All she had wanted was a relatively fattening burger with extra greasy fries and a milkshake. Comfort food, she had just wanted to relax after being _abducted_ for the second time in her life, and hopefully _forget_ about seeing Quinn for the first time in years. She had put on a good front but, it had shaken her to the core. But no, her unscheduled meeting with Brittany and Santana's usual and relative douchebag had pushed her into a fury. One that she had every intention of taking out on Santana _freaking_ Lopez.

Santana glanced up from where she was currently going over the accounts, they were still short and she had no idea where the leak was coming from. She studied Charlie for a moment, "Who pissed in your milkshake? Or did you find a hair in your burger and get grossed out?" She was usually in a good mood after she overate, but clearly that hadn't happened.

Charlie fixes Santana with her strongest glare. "Fuck you, did you really think I wouldn't figure it out?"

"Like always, I have no idea of what you're talking about." Santana retorted snidely.

Charlie scowls. _Of course_ that's Santana's reply. "You're being a _jackass_ —"

"By your standards I'm _always_ an ass, so how is this news?" Santana questions immediately. Charlie twitches in frustration and she can't help but smile, not even bothering to hide her amusement. "You're going to give yourself an aneurysm. Now what exactly have you figured out?"

 _"That you're hiding something from me_." Charlie hisses at her stabbing Santana in the chest with her finger. "You're a _jackass_ whenever you want me _gone_ , or you're hiding something from me—like when we were meeting my dad. So what the fuck are you hiding from me?"

Santana blinked and looked at Charlie's finger on her chest before leaning back in her chair. "There are things that you _don't_ need to know, and asking you to leave usually ends up in you _whining_ like a child who doesn't get their way. If I didn't know better I'd think you were _actually_ worried about me, that you actually cared. But I'm simply a means to an end aren't I?"

It's enough to deflate Charlie's anger for a moment as confusion swept over her face. "If you die, _I_ die. Of course I care about your wellbeing in purely practical terms, I like being alive, and I don't trust the dimwit and the horn-dog as far as I can throw them."

Santana brushed Charlie's finger off from her chest, "I'm not hiding anything from you. I've just come to the realization that you'll be free soon, and as such you'll be packing up your bags and _leaving_. I'm not going to allow you to have information that can come back and haunt me. I'm being smart and I'm not going to cater to your tantrums anymore because you don't get your way. I had business to attend to and I used the most effective way to get you out of the room."

Charlie opens her mouth to argue only to have the door to Santana's hotel room burst open and slam just as quickly behind Puck.

"Puckerman, what are you—"

"Russell Fabray put a hit out on you." He blurts as fast as he possibly can.

"Why would he target Charlie?" Santana's brow furrows. Russell _knows_ that Charlie is protected. To put out a hit on her is not only asinine, but it's ridiculous.

"It's not _just_ her. It's both of you."

"How—"

"There's no _time_." Puck insists, running to the window to check and make sure they weren't already compromised. "Look Santana, you might be the heir apparent but that doesn't mean that there won't be people who _want_ or having a burning desire to take you out so they can take your place. And Russell Fabray—look I know that he's been paying a few guys under the table to keep an eye on Charlie. To see what your father's grand plan was with her. Fuck I don't know, all I know is that he was paying me a fucking premium and I didn't have to do anything but report on Charlie."

"You did what?" Santana snaps horrified, Puck had fucking betrayed her? Of all the people in the world, Puck was her friend and it was over money? He was her right hand man and yet he had sold them out. She reaches for her gun immediately, her rage bubbling over.

"Santana, no—" The sound of the window breaking cuts Puck off. It's as if his body has been hit with an invisible force that sends him tumbling to the ground.

Charlie doesn't hesitate as she tackles Santana to the ground, putting a hand firmly on her head. "Stay down!" Charlie hissed, glancing over at Puck for a moment. She closes her eyes, she had thought that he was a fucking idiot, but seeing the blood pooling around him like that. She exhales and narrows her eyes suddenly glad that she hadn't gorged herself on all that junk food earlier as she rolls over to Puck's body and relieves him of his gun. She grimaced, Puck always preferred something with a bit of kick to it. She wasn't going to be anywhere as accurate as she'd like to be.

Still though, she wasn't about to let someone take her out—especially someone sent by her father. Using the room furniture as cover, she reaches over and fires off two quick shots at the window blindly with her own piece.

Santana shakes off Charlie's protective hold and gets herself in position as well. There's only one shooter, that much is clear from the angle of the shots, but they've still got to figure out a way out of the room.

"Stay _down_." Charlie hisses, firing a couple more shots off. If she makes it seem like they are better armed then they are, it may give them a chance to slip out.

Santana rolls her eyes and fires off a couple shots of her own. "Yeah, I'm not leaving you to get yourself killed. I need to get in touch with my father—"

"Don't be stupid Santana. If _Puck_ was compromised, then who the fuck knows who else that bastard managed to pay off. Call your dad, but we can't trust _anyone_." Charlie rubs her brow, thinking quickly. The shots have seemed to stop coming from the window, but that only made things more complicated. It was possible that whoever was after them was trying to force them out into the open.

Santana nods and quickly pulls out her phone, glad to see that the signal isn't blocked. That means that Russell wasn't willing to shell out the money for a professional. That made things complicated—amateurs took stupid risks but she and Charlie should be able to avoid them. Her father answers on the first ring. "Papi?"

 _'I just found out, Santanita. I'm working on it.'_

"But it was Russell?" She confirms.

 _'Yes. Apparently he thought that paying off some of our key people meant that we were weak. It's a mistake he won't get the chance to make a second time.'_

"Papi, we're leaving our phones behind."

 _'Good. As far as I know, Charlie is one of the only people we can trust here. Find a way to contact me in a week and I will know more. Avoid our regular safe houses and contacts.'_

Santana nods, unsurprised at falling back to their standard plan. It's one they haven't shared with any of their security crew, but Carlos Lopez was not the leader of the largest criminal organization in the southwest without being cautions. "Alright Papi. One week."

 _'Be careful.'_ He adds.

As soon as she ends the call, she takes out the battery of her phone and the sim card, casting them to the side. Charlie arches her brow in surprise but pulls out her phone as well to do the same.

"We'll contact him in one week, but right now we need to find a _safe_ place. The only person I can trust right now is you." Santana spits looking at Charlie, studying her. It would be so easy for Charlie to simply kill her and disappear. To stab her in the back like Puck did, as far as she was concerned he had gotten what was coming to him. It didn't matter if he had tried to warn them.

Charlie was quiet for a moment, her mind racing as she thought of possibilities. All their safe houses were no longer safe, and they wouldn't be able to use any of their money. "How much money do you have on you?" Charlie questions.

"Twenty grand, but that is money—"

"Where?"

Santana gestures to the hard briefcase and watches as Charlie slides towards it picking it up. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that twenty-grand is a _lovely_ diversion."

"You are _not_ throwing away twenty thousand dollars! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I want to keep us _both_ alive, right now we need to take the service elevator down to the basement, do you know how to hotwire a car? Never mind—Puck showed me how." Charlie mutters. "I know a place that we can stay for a day or two. I also know someone we can trust—more or less."

Santana eyes narrowed as Charlie slid towards the door and checked the peephole for a moment, "Are you taking me where I think you're taking me? Because if you are—"

"Stop being a whiny bitch," Charlie snapped at her. "We don't have a choice, and if you say you'd rather die. I'm leaving your sorry ass here. Now for the love of all that is holy, let's _move_."

~O~

Quinn stares at the paperwork in front of her. "There's got to be some mistake."

"There isn't—"

"Not about your conclusion that someone is helping them get away with it. I'm saying your conclusion about my father. Do you even know what you're saying?" Quinn hissed turning angrily to Brittany. "Yeah, maybe when I was sixteen and I was angry with him and I blamed him I might have believed you, but even then I doubt it. My dad was _shot_. He was shot trying to protect my sister, there is video evidence of that fact."

"Your father was shot at close range by professionals." Brittany notes. "And _yet_ he was shot in the right shoulder. An interesting coincidence."

"Or they missed." Quinn insists. This is absolutely ridiculous. Her father had been _devastated_ when Charlie was taken.

"Convenient." Brittany corrects. "Very convenient, it was a theory, just a theory but your sister _hates_ your father. I saw that much on her face—"

"Because he failed her, even if it wasn't her fault she might hate him because to _her_ he failed her, he let her get taken and raped and abused and—what do you mean on her face? When did you see her last?"

"That's _unimportant_ what's important is that the only person who knows for certain what happened is your sister, and maybe she found about some stuff later but I'm telling you that your father is involved. Maybe he isn't the big bad guy in this scenario, but he _definitely_ knows more than he's saying." Brittany pushes one file toward Quinn and points to the important line of text. "Right here—we can't ignore this Quinn."

"I _know_."

Brittany watches Quinn try to re-process the information. She didn't blame her, especially since she had a few days to mull over the information herself. "He's involved—"

"I don't _want_ to believe that. He lost _everything_ and yeah he isn't the easiest person to get along with, but he loved us. He loved my mom, and he loves me and he loves Charlie. Her disappearance broke my mother, didn't matter how many times she was sent to rehab, or all the doctors that poked and prodded at her. They gave her drugs for her anxiety, and she had a bottle of liquor and she didn't wake up. Maybe it was something he said and maybe he got targeted. But he's not some criminal kingpin Brittany, he _isn't_. It's the fucking Los Angelicos—"

Brittany puffed out her cheeks, "Quinn, if this wasn't your father. If you were completely neutral, you'd see the pattern as well. In fact, I'd probably be the person trying to stop you from barging in on a possible _presidential_ candidate and possibly getting us fired or demoted to some desk jockey in _Nebraska_. But it's your _dad_ —"

"Who is _innocent_."

"Who still campaigned for governor even though your mother was struggling with grief. Who has done some incredibly _sketchy_ things in the past before. You know it and you ignore it because it's your dad and I get it Quinn but you need to—" There's a loud bang at the door, and the sound of someone cursing that causes Brittany to pause and tilt her head.

"Mike?"

"Has the key," Brittany responds easily frowning as she did, wincing when there's another bang at the door. She motions for Quinn to go for her sidearm as she makes her way to the door, peeking through the peephole.

"Who is it?" Quinn demands from where she's in cover, getting ready to shoot just in case.

Brittany pulls open the door, "Your sister and she brought a friend!"

"My—what?"

Charlie inhaled and stood up straight, "Nice place you've got here Quinn," Charlie pushed her way past Brittany and entered the apartment. "We're going to need to borrow it for a week or so."

"I thought you said we weren't _roughing_ it?" Santana grumbled as she holstered her gun. "I don't think they've dusted in weeks."

Quinn stared at Charlie who met her gaze evenly. Almost immediately she felt torn, and she glanced down at the gun in Charlie's hands before meeting her sister's gaze once more. "What are you doing here?"


	14. Chapter 14

Quinn stared at her twin, unsure of what to say to her. There were many things she _simply_ hadn't expected today of all days and this _certainly_ wasn't one of them. "You're dripping blood on the rug." It's the first thing that comes out of her mouth and she instantaneously regrets it. Though in her defense she and Charlie hadn't left on a _high_ note last time.

Charlie raises a brow, "No I'm—" she glances down at the droplets on the ground and immediately turns her attention towards Santana. "Is it mine or yours?" She didn't feel anything wrong with her body, but it wasn't as if she wasn't in a constant state of pain to begin with. Her injuries had piled up and there were days when she felt much older than she was. Her pain tolerance had also risen tremendously over the years.

Santana shrugs immediately regretting the action, it was just a graze, perhaps a deeper graze then she was used to but she would _live_. Her adrenaline was quickly making its way out of her body, and she was definitely starting to feel the fact that there was a chunk of her arm missing. "It's not enough to worry about."

"Which means it's yours." Charlie narrows her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were hit?"

"I was grazed, it barely counts." Santana dismisses. "And unless you forgot, we kind of had bigger things to worry about than a little scrape."

"Your dad is going to kill me—"

Santana narrowed her eyes, and tilted her head towards the two _FBI agents in the room_. Out of all of Charlie's plans this had to be up there as one of the worst and every fiber of her being loathed the fact that they were forced to consider this option. It wasn't as if the FBI was _safe_ , Russell had his fingers _everywhere_. "Don't say _anything_." Her eyes meet Charlie's and her frown deepens. " _They_ might think you're being serious." She gestures to Quinn and Brittany who were simply watching their interaction in shock and amusement respectively. "I'll be fine in a week, which is when we need to call him so right now all we need is a safe place to lick our wounds and plan what comes next."

Quinn shook her head, all of this _didn't_ make any sense to her. None of this was making any sense and as pleased as she was to see Charlie—Santana was a _criminal_ , one that Charlie seemed to show an inkling of concern for. Whether that was self-preservation or she was looking at an actual case of Stockholm syndrome either way she needed answers. "Okay, stop. What the fuck is going on here?" Quinn snaps.

Both Santana and Charlie fall silent, eyeing each other as they wordlessly tried to figure out how much to tell her. Finally, after a minute Charlie rolls her eyes, "I thought you were supposed to be some big scary FBI agent. You _really_ need me to tell you what's going on?"

"Not all of us have wasted our lives as a criminal overlord." Quinn retorts somewhat defensively. "So indulge me."

"We know Russell's involved." Brittany adds, shooting Quinn a look that dares her to disagree. "We're just not sure to what extent."

"You mean how he sold me to Los Angelicos for the chance at his political career? Or how he put a bounty out on my head because _somehow_ he found out I was still alive. Well no, he knew I was still alive, I'm guessing that he found out that you _knew_ that I was still alive."

"Charlie." Sanana stresses immediately. "They're FBI agents."

"She's also my sister and she needs to realize that our father is the devil incarnate, and he makes you look like a _saint_ instead of the giant gaping asshole that you are," Charlie retorts. "Look the fact is that we need somewhere to stay and it needs to be somewhere that no one in their right mind would come looking for us."

"So you came _here_?" Quinn hisses. She glances around, "I could lose my _job_ for this. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Yes because you couldn't lose your job for _kidnapping_ me." Charlie scoffs under her breath.

Brittany clears her throat, shooting Quinn a glare. They didn't need to be making enemies right now, not when they were finally getting answers. "That was an unfortunate misunderstanding." Brittany dismisses.

"Chloroform isn't a misunderstanding," Charlie hissed.

Santana studied Quinn for a moment, she was angry she was confused and they simply didn't have time for this. She would need to get over her daddy issues later, preferably once Russell was _dead_. "Your father is a _twat_. You want to blame me for your family's misfortunes fine, do it later. I was under the _mistaken_ assumption that you wanted to _save_ your twin, who at the time didn't want to be saved. Now that she does need a place to stay and rest her head you're angry at her for what? Telling you the truth. You want the _proof_ that your father is a fucking psychopath then keep us alive for a week and I'll give you all the proof you need." Then she'd put a bullet in his head and laugh about it.

Quinn crumpled a bit, taking a step back. "He—you didn't see him after. He got _shot_ —he was a different man—" she sputters.

Charlie's eyes narrowed for a moment, they didn't have time for this. If this was any other time she might feel sorry for her twin. "Quinn. I need an answer will we be safe here or do I need to find some other place that I can stay at? However, if we leave, I'm gone. You're never going to see me again."

"Really?" Santana whispers quietly, "You're laying it on thick with the emotional blackmail."

Charlie ignored her watching as her words seemed to switch something on in Quinn. They were Fabrays, they understood manipulation better than anyone else it might be the thing that finally made Quinn realize that there was no better at manipulating then their father.

"Of course you can stay and of course we'll protect you—" Quinn promises immediately before looking at Santana and then Brittany. It _was_ technically Brittany's place.

"Duh, of course she can stay." Brittany said moving to help Santana inside. "We're going to need to get you stitched up. Where were you hit?"

"I'm fine, it's not that bad." Santana tries to shrug off Brittany's attempts. She's had worse injuries from practice sparring than this and she definitely didn't want to be weak in front of their newfound sanctuary.

Charlie grunts as she helps Santana to the couch, running her fingers along her jacket before she finds the bullet hole. She pulls back her fingers sticky with blood after Santana hisses in pain. "I'm going to tell you what Sebastian told me when I got shot for you. Don't be a child."

Santana lets out a harsh laugh. "Sebastian is a fucking asshole."

"You've been shot before?" Quinn asked from where she was standing back. Perhaps she was in shock but this was getting to be too much, and she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. There was so much information that she needed to take in and her entire world had just been rocked to its core.

Brittany stopped in front of Quinn and pulled her into a hug. "You can collapse later Quinn, right now I need you to be _Quinn_. We have questions, they have answers and we need to get it out of them and keep your sister safe."

"Who said anything about collapsing?" Quinn responded after a moment. "I just—I'm just hoping and praying that it isn't true. That this is all some sick joke." She looks up at her twin for a sister who seems to be fussing over the _criminal_ and grits her teeth. "And wondering when did we sign up to take care of the heir to Los Angelicos. We should be _arresting_ her not nursing her back to health."

"We've never _actually_ been able to connect the Lopez's with Los Angelicos." Brittany reminds her.

"Well, not until right now," Quinn points out flatly. Charlie was Los Angelicos, she admitted as much. Santana might not have any visible tattoos but it was obvious that she was Los Angelicos now. They didn't need pictures the evidence was staring them right in the face.

"If you arrest Santana, I die." Charlie interrupts them. There's not any use in beating around the bush.

Santana scowls. "That's not entirely—"

"Of course it is. You think if I let you get arrested your father wouldn't skin me alive? We _both_ know that's true. As it is he's probably going to think of something horrible to do to me when he finds out you've been shot. Your father treats you like a princess. So when you do see him, _suck it up_."

"Your fear of my father has been noted, when are you going to respect me like you do him? Ow—fuck! _Ow_! Will you stop it?"

"Stop what? Your wound needs to be cleaned stop being a baby," Charlie smirks.

"A baby? You're the one getting off on torturing me!" Santana snaps back.

"Are you two always like this?" Quinn scoffs, rolling her eyes. Santana Lopez was supposed to be a hardened criminal.

But neither of them pay her any attention. "Oh, like _I'm_ the one who gets off on torture." Charlie scoffs.

"Oh, _please_. You're the one that—ow— _fuck_! Will you stop that? You fucking sadist." Santana snaps at her reaching to smack Charlie.

Brittany watched for a moment, before leaning in to nudge Quinn. "I guess that's your new sister-in-law."

Quinn twitched violently at the thought. That woman had _kidnapped_ her wife. "Charlie. I know you've been living with the Los Angelicos and I know your life has been a living hell since you got kidnapped but please tell me, please tell me that you aren't _dating_ the heir apparent to the Los Angelicos."

Santana flicked her eyes towards Charlie, trying to play it cool as Charlie laughed openly at the idea. Whatever they had it was certainly complicated. "Don't be fucking ridiculous," Santana sneers at Quinn as Charlie gasps for air.

"You think I'd date _her_?" Charlie can barely get the words out. Santana's a _sociopath_. Getting control of herself she shakes her head in disbelief. How could anyone think they were _dating_?

"Jokes aside," Santana begins deciding to bury it. "Russell has known Charlie's been alive for ages so what the fuck changed now? Which one of you _lunatics_ blew it?"

"No." Quinn shakes her head. She can't believe it. "There's no way he's known Charlie was alive. I can accept he was involved in whatever happened to you, Charlie. I _know_ he's an asshole and I'll do whatever it takes to bring him to justice. But there's _no way_ he knew you were alive."

"Could you just fucking trust us for once?" Santana blows out a breath, eyeing Charlie out of the corner of her eye. "He knows."

"How? How could he possibly—"

"He saw me Quinn." Charlie admits, gulping down the swell of emotion she thought she had put behind her. "He fucking saw me and I saw him. I thought he was there to _save_ me." She blows out a self-deprecating breath, unaware that Quinn has completely frozen at the revelation. "He didn't give a damn except to ask why Santana hadn't killed me and _threaten_ her for failing to keep her end of the bargain. So yeah. He _knows_. He's known for _years_. So the _only_ thing that could have changed is him finding out that _you_ knew I was alive."

"He was worried we'd piece it together." Brittany frowns. He was _right_ to be worried. Finding Charlie was the link that fit this entire puzzle together. When all eyes turn to her, she holds up her hands defensively. "It wasn't me."

"Well I sure as hell didn't tell him." Quinn crosses her arms over her chest.

"What about your wife—the big mouth?"

Quinn freezes, her mind racing. " _Rachel_." She breathes reaching to grab her jacket. "I need to make sure that she's okay. If there are people out to get _you_ who knows what they'll do to her."

"I'm sure she's fine. She'd be more likely to annoy them to death. Trust me, I speak from experience." Santana dismisses, crying out when Charlie pushes on the bullet wound again.

"Be nice." Charlie chastises, smirking when Santana scowls at her. She gets up. "I'm going to go with Quinn."

"You're going to leave me with Chloroform Barbie?"

Charlie blinks and turns to Brittany, "Just a little bit to put her out, she's not great with pain."

"You _bitch_!"

Charlie ignores Santana and turns to Quinn. "You are not going without your gun. What are you stupid? Always bring your gun everywhere. What the hell do they teach you at cop school?"

"You mean Quantico?" Quinn snaps, Charlie was right though. She needed to be prepared for every eventuality. "Shouldn't you be keeping a low profile?"

"What I need is to keep you alive." Charlie responded. "I'll drive." She informs Quinn swiping her keys from her hand. They needed to talk, and now would be the perfect time to do it. She pauses at the door and looks at Brittany. "If she dies, you die."

Brittany smiles at Charlie and waits until the twins are out before she turns to Santana. "So you're in love with her huh?"


	15. Chapter 15

It was an _awkward silence_. That was the best way that Quinn could describe it. This was what she wanted more than anything, she had spent her entire life searching for her twin, and once again she had found her but all those teary reunions that she wanted, the joy the sorrow—she had gotten her twin back but there was still a wall between them. "Get your feet off the dashboard." Quinn snaps when Charlie finally shifts and puts her feet up on the dashboard.

Charlie tilts her head at her twin for a moment before simply putting her feet down with a shrug. To state that Quinn was angry and confused would be an understatement, though maybe it was guilt and she was merely lashing out, either way she needed to get a handle on it. "I can't cry about what happened to me. I know that's what you want some teary reunion like you see on television, and maybe years ago that was possible but I've done far too many terrible things for me to ever be _that_ person."

"You shot at me." She feels petty even bringing it up, Charlie had stopped her from following her. She hadn't actually shot at her. "You also pulled a gun on me _several_ times."

"I shot at your car. You _kidnapped me_ Quinn. You had me chloroformed and you kidnapped me. You didn't try and talk to me you just took me."

"I was trying to rescue you. You've been gone for sixteen years—"

Charlie frowned and held up her hand. "I didn't _need_ you rescue me. I had everything and I do mean _everything_ under control, I had my freedom bought. I was just working off the debt, I had always planned to see you again if only for a few moments, but this—you ruined it. Every crafted plan, everything was ruined and you put my life in danger so _damn_ right I was pissed." Charlie responds angrily. Santana didn't _have_ anyone left. Puck, Finn, she couldn't trust anyone, she was going to renege on their deal and honestly she couldn't blame Santana for it.

Quinn frowned, this was the first time she had heard of it. "Listen to yourself—you had to _buy_ your freedom. You're—"

"Property. At best I'm _property_. I know what I am and what I will always be to Santana. The cost—well that wasn't something that I couldn't pay. It's something I had done and I was okay with it. I was okay with the price and now—" Charlie shrugs. Who knew what the future held. She knew it certainly wasn't going to be something in _her_ favor. It never was.

"You aren't a _thing_ to be traded and sold Charlie. You're a person, you have a mind you can make your own decisions. You're _safe_ to make your own decisions now. So maybe instead of thinking of Santana's safety, you need to start thinking about yours. You'll have the entire justice department protecting you—" Quinn said eagerly hoping that it was enough to turn Charlie. They could bring Santana in.

"I don't trust the police; I've paid them off far too many times to trust them. I don't trust anybody, except Sanana at this point. I know you hate her but she's saved my life."

The words pierce her heart like a knife and Quinn can't help but look at her sister in sorrow, "What about me? We're twins."

Charlie winces at the pain in Quinn's voice. "Our father sold me into a modern day slavery for some power. I don't think _trust_ is something that I can freely give considering the circumstances we find ourselves in right now."

"But you trust the criminal."

"Santana—I trust Santana to be who she is. At the very core she's not going to attempt to screw me over or kill me for this mess. I know it's weird to you and it doesn't much make sense to me, but she is who she is and even though whatever our relationship is I can trust that. I can _trust her_. I don't think that makes any sense to anyone but her and me."

"I don't think it makes sense to her either. I think she loves you," Quinn responds after a moment even though it truly pains her to say the words.

"No your wife loves you. She talked about you nonstop when it was her turn to watch me, Santana and I are _stuck_ together, and we barely tolerate each other on _good_ days." Charlie shakes her head. She wasn't lying when she said her relationship with Santana was weird, she didn't even want to _think_ about it. "Anyone who can get under Santana's skin like that is decent in my book." Charlie responds tilting her head so she can take a look at the mirror, narrowing her eyes slightly. She hadn't been paying attention but she needed to. "We can't _stay_ in that apartment. It's not safe and it puts you in danger. We need a safe place to stay for a week. The place that you stuck me in does anybody know about it?"

Quinn loathed to admit it but Charlie was right. "No. It's in Brittany's boyfriends name. We'll talk about it and then see what we can do. It might be the safest place for you right now." She narrows, her eyes when she notices Charlie adjusting. "See something?"

Charlie shakes her head. "No, nothing yet, but considering the cluster-fuck we're in, paranoia is useful."

Quinn grinned, it sounded like something she would say to Brittany perhaps they weren't that different after all.

~O~

Charlie taps her fingers idly on the side of the car and glances up at the suburban detached home in up class LA. Figures. Of course Quinn's wife lives in the perfect little neighborhood. She glances up at the sky and feels a little bit of comfort that at least some things don't change. The light pollution clouds most of the stars that she had grown to love out in the outskirts at Carlos's estate.

It's times like these that she wonders what her life would have been if she hadn't been kidnapped. Would she be married by now? Would she have popped out a few kids? Or was she always meant to be _this_. A killer, a murderer, a thief when the situation called for it. She had turned a blind eye to women who had been in her predicament, telling herself that she had clawed her way to the top, that she had proven her use to the Los Angelicos. That was a lie, she had been too afraid of Santana to do anything, far too broken and pathetic to pull the trigger.

It didn't matter though, not anymore. She would never be _that_ person, living a life like this would make her fingers itch to join the action again. Staying in the action made her wish for something simple like this. All she knew was that she'd _never_ be happy.

She sighs and glances out the window, frowning when she sees a familiar stupid ass hat. She's made fun of that hat on numerous occasions, but Finn has always claimed that it helped him blend in. He was a six-foot giant, wearing a stupid hat only made him stand out more in people's minds. She was tempted to roll down the window and tell him what a fucking moron he was when she pauses and ducks down in her seat. What the hell was Finn doing here? Puck was generally the brains between the two of them, and that wasn't saying _much_ because they were both idiots. Her eyes narrow suspiciously for a moment. Puck had betrayed them, and it was highly likely that Finn had thought it was a good idea at the time.

It was a good thing she didn't actually have much love for either Puck or Finn, though killing him in this cul-de-sac would be problematic. Cops were probably going to be called, and the last thing she needed was more police officers. She turns around and glances at the trunk of the car, it could _probably_ fit Finn. _Probably_. Maybe if she broke his legs. She checks her gun really quick and then discretely opens the door. Finn was many things, but he was not generally observant of his surroundings. Getting the drop on him would be easy.

She slips behind the car and watches Finn carefully, noting his pacing. She knew that pace, he was trying to think of a plan on his own. Ages ago it had been funny but now—it was just sad and pathetic and she suddenly understood why Carlos had forced her to stay by Santana's side despite the begging, the pleading and the downright bribery. Carlos hadn't trusted them, and now she understood why. It didn't help that they carried around relatively useless pistols, because they wanted to look like badasses. A Smith and Wesson 500 Magnum was a _stupid_ gun unless you were in a movie of some sort and you needed a ridiculous looking gun to hold.

Plus, she knew for a fact that she was a quicker draw and a better shot than Finn, all those days practicing helped. Imagining that it was her father's face that she was shooting made her an even better shot. She exhales slowly, feeling the adrenaline start to rush through her system. She would need to stay out of his gigantic reach or this would quickly go to hell. She darts forward pulling her gun out and pointing it at Finn. "Take your gun out slowly and kick it over here and then get to your knees. Don't do anything stupid or I will put three in you."

"Three what?" Finn asks moving to do what she says.

" _Bullets—_ I said _slowly_." Charlie snaps at him.

"Like you did to Puck? He was one of us!" Finn snaps angrily. He had found his best friend in the world with a bullet to his head.

There was no pity in her eyes as she watched him kick the gun over, she immediately drags her foot onto the gun so she can kick it away for now. She'd deal with it later. "I didn't _kill_ Puck. Santana didn't kill Puck, he came to tell us that he had betrayed us and someone else did it, before I could do it. My father sold me to you fucking assholes. His _daughter_ what made you think that doing business with him was a good thing? Even _Carlos_ didn't trust my dad. Yet you lunatics did?"

"It was good money and it was just to _watch you_. We didn't think—"

"No that's the problem. You _never_ think." Charlie snaps. "You don't think and now Puck is dead, and that's on _you_. Not me or Santana. What was your big plan? Kill me then her?"

Fin scowls, "No, it was always you. We thought we were doing her a favor. _You're_ her weak spot. She should have killed you _years ago_. She was supposed to, you've screwed up a few times but you always get away with it, probably cause you're pretty and blonde."

Charlie motioned for Finn to get up. "As much fun as it would be to _kill you_ right now, I don't think my sister wants me to leave a mess in her nice perfect suburban neighborhood. We wouldn't want to scare Mr. 'Fucking' Rogers." Charlie sneers, rotating her body. "So I'm going to take you to Santana and I'm going to let her decide what she wants me to do with you."

"You know she loves you?"

Charlie doesn't hesitate. "If you don't move your ass I will _shoot_ you."

Finn swallowed and nodded, trying to keep his face neutral. She had forgotten all about his phone he would just call for some backup and she'd take them directly to Santana. "Fine."

Charlie noted the gassy look on his face and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He really wasn't _that_ smart to begin with, she hadn't forgotten about his phone. She really did have everything under control. She opens the trunk of Quinn's car with one hand, her gun still trained on him, before backing away. "Get in."

Finn stared at the small space and then back at Charlie. "You can't be serious—"

"You have a choice. You can get in while you're perfectly fine. Or I can shoot you and stuff your body inside, letting you bleed out in the back of a trunk. The result is going to be the same. Either way you're getting in that trunk." Charlie informs him bluntly. Finn frowns slightly but when she puts her finger on the trigger he moves to do what he's told. It's only when he's in the process of bending down so he's at her level does she finally make her move pistol whipping him hard and watching as he drops like a sack of rocks into the trunk. She moves quickly patting him down and removing his phone and keys and anything he might be able to use. It was a shame that the chloroform girl wasn't around. She probably had some duct tape or something to bind his legs with. She had noticed a bag on the back seat—maybe it had cuffs or something of the sort. She quickly goes to go and check, grabbing the bag. She comes back quickly and opens the bag before smirking at an unconscious Finn and pulling out a pair of zip ties. "Oh, this will be fun."

~O~

"Quinn you just can't demand that I come with you—and start throwing my things into a suitcase. It's _rude_ at the very least tell me what's going on?" Rachel demanded ducking as Quinn threw more of her clothes into the rather large suitcase on the bed. There hadn't been a lot of words, they hadn't communicated anything Quinn had just barged in like a lunatic.

"Apparently my dad is the devil—"

"While your father isn't my favorite person in the world Quinn, I don't think hyperbole is the best way to get your feelings—"

"No. Listen. He's behind this all of this. My sister's disappearance, he _sold her_ , he got rid of her for _power_. I don't know how he found that I knew that she was alive but he knows. He knows now and he's out to get them and I need to protect her and you. So just—for the love of god _pack_. Charlie's waiting in the car."

"Charlie's in the car? What—I don't—"

" _Pack_. We can talk in the car. I promise to tell you everything in the car."

Rachel moved to the closet and grabbed a small duffel bag. "I have a go bag. I modelled it after what was in yours. I realize the inherent danger in your job and I thought that one day something like this might happen. So I had one prepared a few days ago after my kidnapping."

Quinn stared at Rachel the temptation to stop what she was doing and simply kiss her wife burned through her. There were times when Rachel's neurosis was tiring and then there were times like this when she loved it. This was one of those times. "Alright let's go; I don't even know where to begin with my dad. I think Charlie has a better understanding."

Rachel swallowed from what she gathered, if Russell really was _evil_ then this situation may have been _her fault_. "Quinn—I need to tell you something."

"Can it wait till we're in the car?" Quinn asks as she practically pulls Rachel along.

"I suppose but—I may have told your father about Charlie's existence. It was an accident and I thought that you had mentioned it to him, it's not like I came out and said it exactly more like _implied it_ heavily. But this may be my fault—"

Quinn stops and looks at Rachel, "We'll deal with that later, but you didn't know. I don't think you could have known, but just in case—please don't say anything to Charlie or Santana?"

"Santana's here too?" Rachel asked in surprise.

"Santana got shot so she's with Brittany." Quinn says as she drags Rachel towards the car. She frowns when Charlie smiles and waves at her. It's an action that gives her pause, Charlie looked like a cat that that had just gotten its hands on a canary. _The_ canary. She shakes her head. She was a member of the FBI she probably didn't want to know. She moves to throw Rachel's duffel bag in the trunk of her car when Charlie rolls down the window.

"I _wouldn't_."

"What did you do?"

"We have a guest, I made him as comfortable as possible. Your friend is really into some weird kinky stuff you know. Now get in, we don't have that much time." Charlie orders shifting a bit and turning to look at Rachel. "You must teach me how you got under Santana's skin like you did."

Rachel blinked, this woman was completely different than the one that they had kidnapped. Perhaps she was no longer _surly_ about the whole kidnapping angle. She wasn't sure if she preferred this Charlie to the other one but she was going to take Quinn's words to heart and keep her mouth shut about her role in this current predicament.


	16. Chapter 16

Santana scowled at Brittany who was humming to herself, it was annoying. That was the only way she could describe this _hell_ that she was in. There was only way to describe it, and if their lives weren't in danger she would have murdered Charlie for coming up with this bat-shit crazy idea. It went against everything that she had been taught, everything that she knew to be true. Police were human as well, they could be paid off, they could be coerced to see things _her_ way, they were never to be trusted. Hell, this _Brittany_ person had _admitted_ to using chloroform on the only person that she trusted.

She grimaces as she shifts on the couch her eyes still studying the woman in front of her. She had protested to her gun being taken away, but quite frankly she was in far too much pain to really put up a fuss. So now she was stuck playing _nice,_ with a crazy person who seemed to enjoy chloroforming others. She didn't have her gun, and Charlie was taking _forever_ to get back. It was almost enough to make her worry. But Charlie was _lucky_ , all things considered. She had to believe that she was coming back.

"It's called Lima syndrome you know."

"Excuse me?" Santana asks turning to Brittany sharply, immediately regretting the action.

"Lima syndrome, it's the opposite of Stockholm syndrome. It's when the abductor develops sympathy for their captives," Brittany responds with ease and shrugging away the annoyed look that Santana was shooting at her. "You abducted her and sometime between now and then you _fell_ in love with her."

Santana gritted her teeth, she had no idea who this Brittany _thought_ she was but she really wanted to shoot her. "I have no fucking clue what you're on about. Charlie is a tool, and right now the only that I _know_ I can trust."

"And you love her," Brittany repeats and leans back in her chair. "It's interesting, I mean given how long you two have known each other, probably for the entire time that Charlie's been missing it's not _uncommon_. It's certainly not a _healthy_ relationship by any means—"

"She had a choice, I didn't—"

"Holding a gun to someone's head may be a choice, but we still consider it to be _rape_." Brittany interrupts not letting Santana get another word in. She watched as Santana's mouth slammed shut and she flushed. She had most definitely struck a nerve. "What—"

"It's not like that. It hasn't been like that for years. I don't force her to do anything, she's been free to escape for years. She hasn't, she _chose_ to remain a Los Angelico, and she's the one that chose to return to my bed I didn't make her do that. So let's not even pretend that it's what you think it is," Santana sneered.

"—I don't understand is if Charlie is still under some form of Stockholm syndrome, or whether she returns your feelings," Brittany mused. "I'm not quite sure she knows herself. Neither do you, because you're oddly defensive about this whole thing." Brittany continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.

Santana glared, Brittany was _so_ lucky that she was currently in too much pain, to put the fear of god into her. "I don't see how any of this is your business—"

"Quinn's going to make sure that Charlie gets immunity, she's going to make sure that her twin sister gets to restart her life somewhere and live a normal life, I think that's been the plan since Quinn found her and Charlie's going to have a choice to be free. If you don't want the entire force of the FBI, the DEA, and the ATF coming down on Los Angelicos effectively wiping them out then you're going to _let_ her go. You're not going to come after her, you're just going to let her live out her life," Brittany informed Santana bluntly. That was the way that these things worked.

Even though she'd like to think that Charlie would choose her, the one thing that Charlie wanted more than anything was her _freedom_. "Let's make her own choice shall we?" Santana finally sneered. They needed to get out of this stupid apartment and if that meant dying in a hail of bullets then so be it. "Where the _fuck_ are they?"

Brittany frowned glancing at the time, Santana was right they should be back by now. "I'll give Quinn a call and—" There's a loud thud outside the door and immediately Brittany dives for her gun. She immediately places a finger on her lips to quiet Santana who shoots her a dull look. She wasn't an idiot.

Brittany darts to find cover, only to hear the sound of keys hitting the lock before relaxing slightly it was probably Quinn or Charlie. At least she hoped it was.

The door opens slowly, "Britt it's me—Charlie will you stop _kicking_ him?" Quinn sighs in exasperation. "You're the one that said we needed him!"

There was a pause for a moment before there was a sick thud and a painful groan. "Okay. I'm done."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked wincing when Quinn shot her an exasperated look. "She did make you take the bumpiest route and as you said he did betray her—"

"You're not helping and stop trying to get information about my twin being a _gangster_. She isn't." Quinn sighed and looked at Charlie.

Charlie didn't seem to take offense instead she picked her foot up and slammed it back down against Finn's stomach, before looking up and then around. "Okay. I think I'm done." She studies Finn again feeling the rage bubbling up, she had saved his life several times, and she had trusted him with Santana. They were supposed to be close friends. Sure he was dim, but she had assumed he was loyal. It had probably been Puck that had led him onto this path. "No wait—"

Quinn sighs and smacks Charlie's arm. "We need him in one piece."

"Correction, we only need him to be able to talk, we don't actually need him in one piece. You hear that Finn, you don't do exactly what I say, I'm going to start cutting stuff off. I think I'll go with the obvious choice," Charlie sneers bringing her foot down hard on his hand.

Rachel leans into Quinn who rolled her eyes at Charlie's antics. "Quinn—I'm sure that she's the definition of a gangster. It's the way things are with these people."

Santana narrows her eyes but lets the comment slide. "He's alive?" She can't help her surprise.

"For now." Charlie shrugs.

"No—no buts. We _aren't_ killing him." Quinn looks to Brittany for help.

Brittany cringes at Quinn's expectation. They _needed_ him to talk and they weren't exactly paragons of virtue. If they had any hope of getting the drop on Russell, they were going to need all the information they could get. "But maybe Charlie's not exactly wrong."

Finn cries behind his gag and Quinn's jaw drops. " _Brittany_."

"I say we take a vote. All in favor of Finn losing a hand?"

"Oh, I was thinking his dick."

Santana winces. Charlie was clearly in a mood. "That seems a little excessive."

"He _betrayed us_ , Santana. For all we know your father is _dead_ because Finn is stupid enough to trust Russell. I hardly think it's _excessive_ —"

"I'm assuming you thought of a plan? Otherwise he wouldn't _be_ here," Santana interrupts. They still had a bit of power, a few judges, a few wardens and correctional officers in their pocket. Finn would die, perhaps in the most brutal way possible.

Charlie sighed and resisted the urge to simply stomp Finn's brains out. Santana was right she did have a plan, she didn't know how feasible it was, but it was the only plan she had for now "Yes Finn here makes it up to you by informing my father of our death and showing proof of death. I'm sure the FBI can get a simple wire tap or whatever, and then all you need to do is get one of those dummy accounts and take the money, and they have evidence of some crime or another. See. Simple."

"Simple?" Santana looks at her like she's grown another head. "Except for the fact that _I_ am still in FBI custody and Russell has enough to bring Los Angelicos down. You think he's just going to _forget_ everything he knows?"

"What's the alternative. You want to kill him?" Charlie sighs. "As much as I would _love_ to slit my father's throat, I _know_ he's going to have things in place to destroy Los Angelicos no matter what. Face it, Santana. Our lives are over—"

"Not if we—"

"You _seriously_ aren't talking about murder like it's some negotiation."

"Hush, Quinn. This is good for my research."

Charlie flicked her eyes over to Quinn for a moment. "This is all hypothetical of course. Los Angelicos might be over but you have enough money to go completely legit. You're _rich_ enough that it shouldn't matter."

Santana frowned, if she needed to hire the best legal team that money could afford, that money that she had stashed away through various legit businesses and properties would go quickly. "The word of the day is immunity."

"You've _got_ to be joking." Quinn remarks dryly. "Charlie will get immunity, she's the victim, it'll be an easy sell but—"

"But nothing. You think a jury is going to believe _Charlie_? Who was held captive for almost ten years? They're going to think the same thing that _you_ do. That I've brainwashed her against Russell—"

"If only." Charlie snorts, amused. "You had very little to do with it." Charlie sighs. "Santana gets immunity as well, I can take her and we can disappear for good this time, so you're going to give us blanket immunity. That's a thing right?"

"No."

Brittany rolls her eyes and pushes Quinn aside with a pointed look. "Yes. It is a thing. But why don't you tell us what you know and we'll see—"

"No. I've _seen_ all those alphabet procedurals. We get the agreement and _then_ we'll tell you." Charlie crosses her arms over her chest. "So get someone here that you trust that has the power to give us blanket immunity. Hell even Finn will testify, but he doesn't get immunity or anything, maybe he doesn't get put in gen pop with all the _friends_ that we've made."

"I'll call Sue—"

"Brittany." Quinn hisses. "You can't seriously think this is a good idea."

"I think it's the _only_ idea." Brittany corrects. "Sue will know people who aren't connected to Russell. And as long as we're _sure_ we can get a conviction, she'll look the other way about how up until this point we should have been working on an actual investigation." Brittany frowns for a moment turning to look at Charlie, she wasn't some idiot bottom of the pack drug dealers. She was smart enough to ask for the immunity beforehand. They were going to have to keep this quiet but still manage to everything by the book.

"Are you going to offer them witness protection?" Rachel asks, furrowing her brow as she tries to remember every detail. She was going to win an Oscar one day. She could feel it.

"I am not going in witness protection," Santana frowns and turns to look at Charlie. Stopping when she noticed the intense look on her face, she was thinking about it. "You want to have a dead end job for the rest of your life?" She ignored the look on Brittany's face. Charlie couldn't just leave her like that.

Charlie flicked her eyes to Santana and scratches her cheek. "I don't care right now, what I care is making sure that we live through this," she said quickly. Maybe she could go to some island somewhere and get a bar and just live a simple life. It sounded lovely. "So do we have a deal?"

"Don't you trust me?" Quinn presses.

"I already told you, I don't trust anyone."

Quinn huffs but nods to Brittany to make the call. She didn't trust Santana either, but for now it was going to have to be enough. "Call Sue."


	17. Chapter 17

Just under three hours later, Santana and Charlie sat across from the federal prosecutor that was basically offering them a fresh start. Santana scowled as she looked over the paperwork with mild disgust. "A _morality_ clause?" She scoffs. Trust the government to throw in some offensive clause to negate the entire agreement.

Tina Cohen-Chang wasn't some fresh-faced newbie, especially not when it comes to plea deals with hardened criminals. "That is non-negotiable. Any further criminal activity would negate the deal."

Charlie frowned deeply, she was pretty sure that they were holding Finn against his will, "I see, maybe we should just keep these documents and sign them _after_ my father has been arrested?" She was probably still going to beat the shit out of Finn when she was in the mood to do so.

" _Additionally_ , this absolves you from any charges under the RICO statute." Tina pointed out. "Look, I'm just going to be honest with you. Although most of your personal criminal enterprise was conducted in Mexico, you both are responsible for the actions of your employees in the states. That's dozens of drug and weapon trafficking charges, attempted murder, and those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. You both _need_ this deal and then you can move on."

"Move on as what? Some fast food employee?" Santana scoffs. "How am I supposed to make a living?"

"Let's be real. I know you have legitimate businesses that are unconnected to Los Angelicos. The US government would turn a blind eye to those funds." Brittany interjects. "I'm sure you can find something to do that isn't against the law."

Charlie snorts. "Probably not."

Quinn shakes her head slowly. "Plus, there aren't any guarantees that if you wait until Russell is taken down he won't try and roll over Los Angelicos."

Charlie flipped through the document in front of her reading everything, there were quite a few words that she didn't understand and she didn't want to ask a stupid question. But one thing caught her eye. "You want to place us in witness protection?"

Santana paused and turned to Charlie's agreement and pulled it away from her scanning the page until she found what she was looking for, that clause hadn't been in her own agreement. "No, apparently it's _just_ you," she says through gritted teeth turning to look at Brittany who shrugged and looked away.

"Oh." Charlie frowned and then glanced at Santana for a moment. "Well who's going to keep _her_ alive?"

Santana raised a brow, "I'm a grown ass woman, you do realize that."

"That's debatable. You act like a spoiled brat half the time. Plus, let's not forget that there are a _lot_ of people that hate your guts. I can't leave you alone for five minutes without the world ending. People want you dead."

"Including you?" Santana shoots watching Charlie carefully.

"Yes well, given our history I can't imagine why," Charlie responds. "But if anyone is going to kill you, it's going to be me."

"When you say things like that, it almost sounds like you care," Santana rolls her eyes.

"That's what you pay me for." Charlie retorts with a smirk.

" _Paid_." Santana corrects. "And fine. Whatever. We'll sign it. Send Charlie here to Florida where she can wrestle gators and I'll—"

"Fuck that." Charlie shoots Santana an incredulous look and furrowed her brow when Santana didn't meet her eyes. I'm not going into Witness Protection just to let you kick it on some beach somewhere without me."

"And what do you suggest?" Santana tossed back. With a huff she picks up her pen and signs the agreement without another word. "There. What next?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why the hell would you sign this before we talked about it?" Charlie snaps, still not signing the document.

Santana sighed, "Because we _don't_ have many options. The choices that we _do_ have, there isn't much wiggle room. Your father is a dick, but the only way to call off all the assassins is if we show him proof of death. Which we should do _soon_. So sign the document Charlie."

Charlie turns her attention back to the paper in front of her. "I'm not going into witness protection. That's off the table, I can take care of myself, and needless to say I don't trust the government. I think under the circumstances that is understood. I don't know how it works but I'm not doing it."

"Charlie—" Quinn tries. She had been the one to insist that Charlie's agreement have some sort of witness protection. She needed to get away from Santana, then maybe things between them could be fixed.

Charlie looks up at Quinn before scratching out the Witness protection clause in the contract. "Quinn. I've been taking care of myself for years. And I'm so _sick_ and tired of people making decisions for me. I'm tired of people trapping me, I know I don't have an education or anything fancy like you do, but I do know what I want to do. So, let me figure out that part of my life alright?"

It kills Quinn to agree but after seeing the earnestness in Charlie's eyes, she sighs and nods. "Whatever you need."

It's more than Charlie expected and she glances at Santana before signing her own agreement. "So, where do we start?"

Tina leaned forward and slipped the agreements in her briefcase. "Start at the beginning. What do you know about Russell Fabray?"

Santana and Charlie shared a glance before Santana sighs, there were things that even Charlie herself didn't know. "I guess the best place to start is when he contacted us about funding his bid for Governor."

~O~

"You know; given the circumstances I think you can have at least one cigarette."

Quinn flushed a deep red as she looked up at Rachel from where she was standing. She had practically inhaled the cigarette between her fingers. Rachel had spent the better part of their marriage making sure she quit smoking. "This is my fifth," she admits after a moment before looking away. Whatever Quinn had expected to hear about her father, it wasn't tales of his cut throat dealings.

Rachel pulled a face and held out her hand, "I know it's difficult Quinn, but killing your lungs _isn't_ the answer."

Quinn scoffs, " _Difficult_? Passing a test at Quantico and being in the top percentile is _difficult_ —he's my dad! He raised me, he—I mean I never agreed with his politics and I always sort of thought that he was an ass but that's my _dad_ Rachel. I mean I knew he was cut throat and I was okay with that. I was okay with him being a cut throat prosecutor, hell at one point in time I wanted to _be_ him. But to find out that every single terrible thing that happened to my family, my mom _dying_ , my sister being kidnapped was all because he is a power hungry bastard?"

Rachel nodded, she was in shock too. Sure she had never _liked_ Russell, and she was sure that it was a mutual disdain but never had she imagined that he was some sort of criminal mastermind. But more importantly she could smell a scandal, and this was a scandal that would be talked about for _years_. "Your father is perhaps the vilest man on the planet, I'm not going to disagree with that statement. But right now you need to think about what your role in this is going to be. I know you want to get closer to your sister and I think that right now is the most important thing here. She doesn't trust anyone and I can't really blame her. So that's why you _need_ to be the one to arrest him. You need to be the one to slap those cuffs on him and drag him in front of the millions of cameras, so his face will be splashed on every news channel."

"You _heard her_ , she doesn't really want anything to do with me."

"That's not what I heard, what I heard is that she wants to figure things out for herself, and you should let her. I know you like to control everything and given everything that happened to you, your mom's death, Charlie's disappearance, your father getting shot—I understand why you feel the urge to control everything and everyone around you. And I know how this sounds but this isn't about you, Santana's just finishing going over the grizzly details and Charlie's testimony is going to start soon after. You need to be there; you need to listen so you can maybe understand."

Quinn pulls the cigarette close to her lips again taking a very long drag, "I know," she mumbles. She exhales and flicks the butt away pulling out the rest of her box and handing it to Rachel. "I just—it's been sixteen years, and maybe if I had found her sooner—" Quinn exhales again and runs a hand through her hair. "I need to give my gun to Brittany, because I'm not sure that I won't shoot Santana once I hear the horrors that Charlie's been through. Then I'm going to need to make sure that I'm not armed when I go after my dad, because right now. Right now I want to kill him. He killed my mom. He destroyed my sister, and he _broke_ me. I don't think that was his intention but he _broke_ me."

"No. He didn't. You rebelled against your dad pretty effectively. You rejected every bit of help that he gave you. You're _clean_ Quinn. You're the good guy, at this point probably the only one and you need to be the one to put him away," Rachel repeats taking Quinn's hand and holding it tightly in hers. From the corner of her eye she spots Brittany who nods at her. Charlie had begun her testimony. Taking a breath of her own, she pulled Quinn towards the apartment. It was a risk, Quinn had so much faith through the years that Charlie was alive when no one else believed her and now? Now she was going to hear every horror, every crime, every cut and bruise that Charlie had received because she hadn't rescued her on time. But she had faith that Quinn would power through it. She needed to have faith.

"The first time that I heard something was off, was also the the first time I was sexually assaulted. I was in that van, the one that they shoved me into. There were two of them, they're dead now, one was driving the car, the other—well he was talking in Spanish, and I didn't understand what he was saying. He spoke English though and he said to me, 'Come on Fabray, let's see if you're worth what my boss paid for you.' I was confused by that statement; I didn't get it. I was a human; I wasn't some piece of cattle. But I later found out that I was sold by my father."

Tina nods wincing at Charlie's tone. "I understand that this is traumatic for you, so if you need a moment—"

"He spoke more Spanish; I didn't understand what he was saying. But I did understand what he wanted when he unzipped his pants and shoved his dick in my mouth," Charlie said flatly. There was no emotion on her face as she recounted this and even Santana looked uncomfortable. She flicks her eyes up at Quinn for a moment and a small proud smirk crosses her features only for a moment. "I bit it, as hard as I could."

Quinn bit her lip, trying not to smile at this. Charlie had probably been scared out of her mind but she still had the wherewithal to fight back. "Good."

Charlie shrugged. "He hit me, said some more things in Spanish, the other guy laughed. I don't remember much else. I do remember we drove for a while and—well I was dragged out of the van and that's when I met Santana." Charlie turned to look at Santana, frowning when Santana didn't meet her eye. Santana had never shied away from what she had done. She had always acknowledged it, though she had put her own spin on it, but now she actually seemed ashamed. "After those two men met an untimely end for attempting to defile me, I was offered a choice, while a gun was pointed at my head." Charlie continues before turning her attention to Tina. She was only going to go through this story once. She didn't want to get sidetracked. She didn't want to break down and cry, she just needed to finish the damn story.

~O~

Santana winced as she looked through the fridge looking for something alcoholic that probably wouldn't taste like stale piss. It had been the hardest two hours of her life listening to Charlie recount her life in that flat tone of hers. It was like she was simply retelling a horror story. She had done that. It was her fault. Despite everything she wished, there would be no coming back. Charlie _couldn't_ love her. She doubted at this point whether Charlie could love anyone. "I don't know why I'm surprised," she mutters mostly to herself as she slams the door closed. "Can't afford the good shit when you're on a shitty salary." She turns slowly clutching her arm in pain when she suddenly feels herself being slammed hard into the fridge. " _Fuck_ ," the words stumble past her lips and she reaches for her gun only to remember that she had forfeited that right. She stares at her attacker and she truly isn't surprised to see Quinn who looks like she can barely contain herself.

Quinn doesn't say anything, glad that Rachel had begun to prepare Charlie for her proof of death picture that they were going to send to her father. Brittany had gotten distracted talking to Mike while Tina was currently busy getting the warrants ready. Finn was cuffed to a wall somewhere, hopefully bleeding out for all she cared. Which gave her plenty of time to murder a one Santana Lopez. "You did this," it was the only words that she could get out.

Santana eyes narrowed and she tries to shove Quinn away with her good arm, but she can't get a good enough grip. "In case you've missed the whole point of this, I didn't do shit—your father—"

"You _raped her_ , you broke her. You took _everything_ from her. You were her _first_ everything. She never went to prom, she didn't finish high school, she never got to experience _university—life_. You stole that. You and my father." Quinn hissed at Santana keeping her voice down. It would be so easy to kill her, to make it look like an accident. She could do that in a few minutes. Charlie may never forgive her, but at this point she didn't care. Santana Lopez was a cancer on her twin's life.

Santana slapped Quinn's arm again harder before deciding to give up, she wasn't going to get out of this hold without calling for Charlie to come rescue her, and she hadn't reached that level of pathetic just yet. "So do it. Kill me if it makes you feel better. You think I care? I made a purchase, and I could have turned her out on the streets, made her a heroin addicted whore. That was the original plan, didn't know she was going to be so fucking _hot_. So I took what was _mine_. And you know what, she _enjoyed_ it. She begged for more, she pleaded for me to _fuck her harder_ —"

The slap echoed in the small kitchen and Quinn dropped Santana, in shock of her own actions as she took a step back. She wasn't surprised when Charlie and Brittany arrived first. She looked at Charlie for a moment, "You aren't _her property_. You aren't. You're more than that. You don't have to barter for your freedom, you're _free_."

Charlie didn't say anything she just sighed and went to Santana's aid, she wasn't surprised when Santana shoved her away. She wasn't perturbed by the action and simply grips Santana's good arm and helps her to her feet. "I know, but as I've said multiple times Quinn. The only person who gets to kill her is me. You don't have to like her, I don't even like her most days—"

"Bullshit."

"Especially when she decides to run her mouth and be hurtful because she's in a bad mood," Charlie continues as she helps Santana to the couch. "But right now, you're both on the same side. The enemy of my enemy and whatever," Charlie drops Santana onto the couch unceremoniously. "As for you, can you attempt to not be an antagonizing prick? If you die because Quinn murders you, then my life ends as well. Since I don't want to die anytime soon at least not before seeing Russell in prison. So _behave._ "

Santana eyed Charlie before turning her attention back to Quinn. "As long as she keeps her hands off me. At least yours are baby—"

Charlie reached down and jabbed her finger into Santana's gunshot wound, causing her to yell. "Don't. Be. A. Prick." Each word punctuated with another jab of her fingers.

" _Fine._ " Santana snaps at her pulling her arm away. "Fine, what the fuck ever."

Charlie smiled and leaned in so only Santana could hear her. "I'm serious Santana, because if you don't I swear by god I'm going to tell Rachel that it's okay to ask you as many questions as possible for her HBO role."

Santana's face falls and she shudders, "You wouldn't."

"Try me," Charlie responds with a smile.

Santana stares at Quinn for a moment, "Truce," she says finally.

"Truce," Quinn mutters after Rachel elbows her in the ribs _hard._ She watches as Charlie shoots her a grateful smile which is when it hits her in the gut, and it hurts more than Rachel's weirdly pointy elbows, or Brittany deciding to hug tackler her—and maybe it hurts more than the fact that she had just found out that her father was one of the worst people in America. Charlie loved her. Her twin sister was in love with her fucking abuser. This was just _dandy_.


	18. Chapter 18

Finn Hudson leaned against the metal bed frame that he was currently attached to, watching as people passed him, ignoring his existence, like he wasn't important. Like his words weren't important. The only deal on the table for him was that he wouldn't be in the general population, which in the end wasn't much. The reach of the Los Angelicos was long and he didn't doubt that if Santana truly wanted to reach him that she'd be unable to. Guards would be paid off to look the other way—he was a dead man walking. He had no real reason to help them.

He pulled on the cuffs around his arm again, maybe he should have asked for a lawyer. Maybe a lawyer would have gotten him a better deal, a low-security prison, like what those white collar criminals went to. The ones with tennis courts and the latest consoles. Maybe he could still make that deal. He wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life in one of those prisons. He smiles to himself, they couldn't do it without him and he'd make sure that he got it in writing. If Santana and _Charlie_ of all people got a blanket immunity, then he sure as hell wanted something just as sweet.

"I know that look."

Finn immediately looks up staring in shock as Santana leans against the doorframe, he hadn't been paying attention and hadn't noticed her stopping to check up on him. "Is this where you threaten me?"

Santana ignored him, clutching her arm as she walked into the bedroom. "It's the look that says you _think_ you have a good plan on your hands. Let take a stab at it, we need you—alive or very close to it, so you can get in touch with Russell and give him proof of death. So maybe you're hoping to get yourself put in some fancy minimum security prison, instead of super-max where we both know that I _know_ people who will have some fun with that _pasty_ white ass of yours before slicing your stomach open and watching your guts spill out, before either shoving it down your throat or stuffing it up your now _gaping_ asshole."

Finn blinks staring at Santana, the image that she had just painted was not pleasant and if she said it was going to happen that way, then he knew for a fact that it would probably happen that way. "We were friends—"

"Best friends," Santana admits easily, the taste of betrayal bitter on her lips. "We had fun together, you and Puck were supposed to be my right hand and my left hand, you were going to be rich, have all the girls you wanted. We dreamed of _uniting_ all the fucking cartels under Los Angelicos. But you fucking betrayed me. You and Puck betrayed me."

"Well you _killed him_. I saw his body and—"

"I didn't fucking kill Puck, he might have taken the money but in the end he fucking came to warn me. I probably would have killed him anyway or at least put him in traction for a year or two, but he came back to warn me. Which is more than I can say for you." Santana interrupts, noting how Finn went pale at this. "What I want to know is how much he paid you, how much did it cost for your loyalty to be bought by a man who _sold_ his own daughter into slavery. A hundred dollars? Two hundred dollars a month? How much?"

Finn didn't say anything right away, "All we were supposed to do was keep an eye on Charlie. It didn't even start after he found out she was alive; it was about five years ago. He found out that you were sleeping with her. I dunno how he found out but he found out. The guy is paranoid thought that Charlie was going to use you to launch some campaign to take him down. So it was just about watching her, making she had no undue influence on you."

Santana scoffed at this, Charlie had for the most part stopped thinking too hard on the matter. She personally didn't give a shit about Russell. Sure she would have loved to see the man die in some cruel and _sadistic_ way, but it wasn't as if Charlie was making plans in her bedroom about it. "She didn't—"

"She did. You loved her, everyone with eyes could see that. Your father knows, everyone knows. I know everyone thinks I'm a fucking slow or something but even I saw it. So what does that say about her? She already managed to convince you to give her freedom. She wasn't supposed to have that much power, she was just supposed to be a toy."

"Yes well you were _supposed_ to be my friend," Santana sneers.

"So was Puck and now he's dead. I know I'm going to die too," Finn reasons. "People around you don't seem to live long."

Santana grunts at this. "People in our line of work don't have a tendency to live long. But I survived—we survived. It was going to be our turn soon but you threw it away for a few extra dollars, when all you needed to do was be patient."

Finn didn't say anything at least not right away, "I don't want to die," he says finally.

Santana frowns, "I don't want to kill you. _Yet_. The way I see it you _owe_ me. So you do what you're told, and instead of going to a super-max prison, I'll try and get you in a minimum security prison. I won't have you used in jail like a cheap whore, so long as you keep your mouth shut. Because if I hear that you're talking—it won't be difficult to get you to a super-max. And I promise you that no one will hear what happens to you after." She didn't want to think about Finn Hudson, she didn't want to hear about him or his stupid ideas ever again, but if she was going to be forced into _behaving_ herself then she needed to start somewhere. And as far as she was concerned her father would probably handle it for her.

"I have your word?" Finn asks.

Santana flicks her eyes towards him. "Yeah, you have my word." She promises.

Finn nods and rests his head against the bed watching as Santana gets up to leave him to his thoughts. "After all this, you should tell her."

Santana stopped at the door, "Perhaps if you were still my fucking friend, I might actually take what you have to say seriously. Right now, none of this shit matters until I know that Russell has been taken out by the feds." She snaps before strolling out to check how everything was going.

"Just like that, keep your mouth open so you can breathe, shallow breaths. The blood splatter looks incredibly realistic what did you use?" Rachel asks turning to Brittany who looked bored.

"Pigs blood." Brittany said with a shrug.

"I'm lying in _pig's_ blood?" Charlie winced but she didn't move from where she was. There were holes in her shirt.

"You and Santana both said that it looked incredibly realistic so we used that," Quinn responds shaking her head. "Don't worry we're just taking picture with the phone's camera. It probably won't be the best quality picture around but you are going to need to not move for a bit."

"It's still gross," Charlie mutters.

"It's also completely unsanitary, what if she gets some weird pig disease," Rachel whispers to Quinn who shrugs.

Brittany turns to Santana, "You're next by the way, we need to get you all done up. It has to be done in another room in the house. Maybe the bathroom, it'll probably be easier to clean than my _living_ room," Brittany grumbles. She hadn't thought this through.

Santana nods and looks at Charlie for a moment. "Make it neat, I don't want to be lying in a pool of pig's blood for any longer than I have to." A small smile is brought to her lips when Charlie flips her off. At least she hadn't lost her sense of humor in all of this. It hadn't hit her quite yet, that her parents could be dead. That she had just lost the only two friends that she had ever known and once this was over, Charlie was going to leave as well. She was going to be _alone_ , and that terrified her more than anything in the world. She shoots a lingering glance at Charlie before she gets tugged to the bathroom by Brittany. There was no point in complicating things further.

~O~

"Excuse me, I have to take this. It's probably about my daughter," Russell explained touching the arm of the donor he had been schmoozing. Presidential elections were _expensive_ and now without his more _illegal_ backers, he was going to have to do it the old fashioned way. He would take a hit in the polls of course but this was _his_ year and he would definitely run away with the election. The American people were _angry_. Illegal immigration, _terrorism,_ crony capitalism—he planned to take full advantage of how divided the country was. It was finally time for an America _he_ envisioned.

He pulls away into an empty room, all he needed to do was take care of a few loose ends. It was unfortunate but it simply had to be done. The last time he had run for president, opposition research had nearly uncovered Charlie the last time, and yet _another_ tragedy would only make him more sympathetic. The American people were such _saps_ , it was sickening. "Hello."

' _It's done Mr. Fabray. I'll can send you proof of death if you want. I'm looking at the bodies right now.'_

"Who is this?" Russell demanded frowning at the casual use of his name.

' _Finn Hudson, you know Santana's right hand man the tall one?_ '

"Right the dumb one," Russell scowled. The one that had just identified him on a call that could be tapped by the FBI. But he had contacts in that office, and he knew a lot of judges. If there was any such warrant in the works, he would have been made aware of it.

 _'_ _They killed my best friend you know.'_

"Yes, well like I promised you will be _well_ compensated for your troubles as long as you were able to actually get the job done. Four hundred thousand dollars will be wired into the account—"

 _'_ _I want it now. I need to go underground. You just don't kill the heir apparent to a gang like the Los Angelicos and hope that nothing will happen. If you want proof of death, then I need to get the money now.'_

Russell frowned slightly at the rush, he did understand, his contacts in Mexico had gone dark and he assumed that Carlos had survived his attempted assassination attempt. It was unfortunate, but he'd have to make sure that he tried harder the next time. He pulls out his normal smart phone. It was dangerous but he had several Cayman Island accounts that he could easily transfer the money from. He pauses for a moment. "Please tell me that this isn't an _American_ account, all transactions over—"

' _I'm not stupid. We all have—had holdings in the Caymen Islands. Are you ready for the routing number?'_

Russell opens the app on his phone. "I am," he says and immediately gets bombarded by numbers. He types them in quickly before getting another set of numbers to the account. He immediately drains the account. "You got your money now I'd like to see pictures of the—" the phone buzzes in his hand, and he pulls it away from his ear to take a look. He stares at the pictures for a moment—it was just the cost of doing business. But he wasn't a _monster_. "Get rid of the bodies, I'll throw in another twenty thousand if you make sure that they'll _never_ be found and if they are—they'll never be identified."

' _Forty._ '

"Fine, _forty_. Now if you'll excuse me I have a fundraiser to attend. Text me when it's done and then lose this number. I'll be getting rid of this phone soon enough." With that Russell hung up and pocketed the phone. He exhales sharply before adjusting his tuxedo and fixing his hair. He pushes a smile onto his face before he decides to head back out there. He needed to make money. He needed to _win_ , and now all that unfortunate business was behind him. It was a straight path to the oval office.

~O~

Finn dropped the phone on the table looking at all the phone tapping equipment that was there. "Did you get what you need?"

Tina nodded slumping back in her chair, stunned by what she had just heard. The casual indifference to his daughter's life—she knew politicians were sociopaths' but this—this was another thing entirely. She looked over at Quinn, who was clenching the table so hard that her knuckles had gone white. "I think it's time that you recuse yourself—"

"I'm going to be the one to arrest him and drag him in. After that you can kick me off the case after that. I'll testify to whatever you want. But I want that _bastard_ to know that I know, and I want to make sure that there is no _fucking_ doubt in anyone's mind that he's fucking guilty." Quinn snaps at her resisting the urge to simply grab her gun and finish the job.

Tina sighs, it would make the news for _weeks_. "What I know, is that he thinks that _they're_ dead. We have two key witnesses which we need to protect—"

"We can take care of ourselves. But so long as you give us a time and a date, we'll be there." Charlie interrupts causing everyone to turn to her. She blinked as she continued to dry her hair. "I want to see the look on his face when he realizes that not only did he fuck up, but that I'm alive—" Charlie winces when Quinn throws herself at her hugging her tightly. She immediately tries to squirm away. "What are you doing?"

"I'm _sorry_ ," Quinn mumbles.

"Okay, fine be sorry just don't hug me." Charlie grumbles attempting to push Quinn off her. "I don't do hugs. I don't blame you. More importantly _get off_." Charlie shoves Quinn away frowning and taking a step back. "Look just, bang his head against the car or something, make it the most humiliating thing he'll ever have to go through and when you're done put him in a cell with some guy who will break him. See how he likes being confined and having his power taken away from him." Charlie muttered the last part before simply turning on her heel to get away from her sister. "I'm going to go find Santana and make sure she's okay."

Quinn scowled at this, "Charlie—"

"Quinn," Rachel said immediately intercepting her. "She's got her own routine, she doesn't know any better and when she's ready she'll come to you. You can't force it."

Quinn frowned, "You heard what she went through how could you even think—"

"I heard what happened to her, you have no idea how Charlie views it. She might not even completely understand, but given every last thing that has happened within the past forty-eight hours. She trusts Santana above everyone else. So let her be comfortable for a little while longer. You know that the relationship probably isn't going to last."

Quinn sighed and nodded wordlessly before turning to Tina, she would do what she normally did in these situations and that was turn her attention onto her work. Her career in the FBI was probably over after this but she found herself _not_ caring.


	19. Chapter 19

Russell looked out at the crowd and smiled as his supporters cheered. His grin widened and he felt confident that now there was nothing in his way to keep him from the presidency. He was the front-runner for the party and now it was just a formality before he was the leading contender as the next president of the United States. He gestures for the crowd to quiet. "You know, no one thought I could get this far. They thought that they could take away our guns, flood our streets with guns and crime. As governor, I spent _years_ fighting the cartels to keep my citizens safe. But did the government listen?"

 _'_ _No!'_

He grins. "Of course they didn't. They were too concerned with the flood of illegals and 'playing nice'. I'll tell you one thing and I'll promise it every day until I move into the White House. I _will not_ play nicely while our children are being murdered. I won't allow our rights to be taken away while we argue about whether about being nice to the countries who have sworn our destruction."

The crowd cheers and Russell feels himself surge with pride. This was why he got into politics. Not to do good or any of that garbage. No, there was one reason and one alone. To be a god. "As you know I lost my daughter to these _animals_. My entire family has been affected by this in ways—my wife—she wasn't able to handle it. Who could blame her? Who knows what they did to my baby girl." Russell let's out a shaky breath. "That's why I _vowed_ to make sure that this never happens again. The world is too PC, but we saw what happened in Germany when we tried to appease them. Why the hell are we attempting to _appease_ these _criminals_?"

The crowd roars and Russell inhales noting a disruption over in the upper deck, he frowns and points to the protestors, " _Get him out_! Get them out! They're part of the problem! They're the reason our kids are getting addicted to crack, why our women are getting _raped_ ," Russell yells.

The crowd practically _roars_ and he wonders how anyone could think they could defeat him. He's the most powerful man on the planet. Cries of _'Fabray'_ chant throughout the hall and this is the moment where he knows he's _won_. It doesn't matter that the election isn't for another six months. With the fall of Los Angelicos, there was _nothing_ that could bring him down.

Russell raises his hand and turns his head a bit noting that Quinn was approaching the stage, he pauses for a moment. She had never wanted to be a part of his campaign, sure she did the rare appearance every now and again, but this was not something that he had thought was going to happen. He pulls back and motions for the secret service to let her through. "My daughter everyone!"

Quinn keeps her face neutral as she gets helped on stage by the secret service members. They had been informed of what was going to happen, she only hoped that the crowd didn't riot. She leans in, and lets her dad hug her trying not to give him an inkling of what was about to happen. "Do you mind?" She asks looking at her father.

"By all means." He beams with pride. He's been cautioning Quinn for years that she needed to get into politics and get away from all the law enforcement silliness. It appears she's finally taken his advice to heart.

Quinn clears her throat. "I've known my dad was a good man all my life. I supported him as governor and as senator. And despite the fact that I was a surly teenager after my twin sister's disappearance, he was there beside me every step of the way."

The crowd cheers and Russell's grin broadens. "I definitely have a few more grey hairs. But that's why family is the most important thing in the world."

"Right." Quinn sighs deeply. "I may not agree with every stance he's made politically but he's my _father_ and I always thought that meant something."

"Quinn—?"

"Effective tomorrow, I am resigning at the FBI. But there's one last action I'd like to do as a sworn officer of the law."

He can't say he approves of her stealing his national stage to launch her own political career, but between he and Quinn they could be a _dynasty_. The next family to rule for generations, their names would be synonymous with Kennedy or Bush.

Quinn steps back from the microphone and reaches in her back pocket. "Dad, I'd like to announce: Russell Fabray, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent—"

The crowd erupts and drowns out Quinn's words as she slaps the cold metal of the handcuffs around his wrists. He stands there in stunned horror as the roar of the crowd, for once, falls on deaf ears. "What are you doing?" He hisses at her.

"Let's just say that I found the man responsible for Charlie's disappearance. Aren't you glad, _dad_? I finally get to bring him to justice."

~O~

Russell turned to the two-way glass and narrowed his eyes, "I'd rather Quinn conduct this interview. I mean I understand teenage rebellion but this—I think I _deserve_ to have a conversation with my daughter."

Sue rolls her eyes and glares at the man across from her, swarmed on both sides by his legal team. She was annoyed that she had to deal with this cluster fuck at all, but the fact that she was also going to lose one of her best agents was what made this situation infinitely worse. She understood Quinn's reasoning, after this her career in the FBI would be ruined, no matter what she did Russell's stench would cling to her, and instead of wasting her talents away behind a desk, she could be doing something with that mind of hers.

"Really, Sue? I understand that we have a democratic president and that the _establishment_ hates my client's politics, but the American people voted for him and if you think that this smear attempt is going to stand. And so we're clear, that stunt you pulled with Quinn arresting her father? We're already working on a case of not only defamation but also malicious prosecution, plus whatever else we can think of. Don't think we'll forget that silencing him during his political rally is a complete denial of his right to free speech." Ryan Bryan sneered at her.

"What are the charges?" Carl Howell added crosses his arms over his chest.

"How should I know? I'm not the State's Attorney handling the case. From what I gather from the thorough investigation my agents have conducted? I'm guessing conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to commit fraud, obstruction of justice in relation to the disappearance of Charlie Fabray, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, actual kidnapping, embezzlement, and let's not forget ethics probes, RICO charges, and potentially even treason since we have evidence of _Mr. Fabray_ giving details of current investigation to drug cartels and foreign nationals." Sue sat back in her chair with a confident smirk, "So I'm sorry for the inconvenience but this isn't exactly something we're going to sweep under the rug."

"Mr. Fabray is a pillar in this community and how _dare_ you suggest that h had _something_ anything to do with his daughter's disappearance. He was _shot_. He tried to fight them off and was _shot_. If you think that anyone is going to believe this story—"

"None of those charges are going to stick, and you think the people will stand for this? Big government—"

Sue hit play on the recorder that she had on the table.

' _Yes, well like I promised you will be well compensated for your troubles as long as you were able to actually get the job done. Four hundred thousand dollars will be wired into the account—_ ' Russell's voice filtered into the room and Sue smirked when she saw Russell finally shut his mouth, the smirk gone wiped off his face.

"Right, so from what I can see you have two options you can fight this, you'll lose and I will do everything in my power to make sure you get the death penalty for _treason_. Or you can simply plead guilty give us the information you know and _maybe_ you can get out when you're a 110," Sue shrugs.

"I didn't know I was being recorded!" Russell snaps.

He's elbowed harshly by Carl and Bryan's eyes narrowed. "It's entrapment. There's no way that confession is going to be admitted. Was there a warrant?"

"What do you take me for? I didn't get a big shiny office because I was a moron. We had an informant, one who is willing to testify under oath that the conversation wasn't elicited by the government." But she was getting tired of this. "You know what your biggest mistake was Russell? You're not very good at cleaning up. If you had never tried to have your daughter killed, then she would never have come to us asking for help. But here we are."

"He's the Republican presidential nominee, the _death_ penalty isn't on the table, this is just the government playing _politics_. All you have is a conversation that doesn't prove anything, and a _what_ low level drug enforcer? Who do you think a _jury_ is going to believe?"

Sue smiled, "Well if that's all we had, maybe you'd be right. However, given the _excellent_ work that my agents have done and trust me, your daughter Quinn will be testifying I wonder who you think is going to be more believable? You, a politician or your daughter a former FBI agent. A career you _cut_ short because of your _crimes_. I think I'm going to enjoy this trial, watching you burn and the media tearing you to shreds. It's going to be _glorious_."

"We're done here." Ryan shook his head, "Unless you're actually going to charge him—"

"Oh. We're charging him alright. Mr. Fabray, from here we will take you to Central Booking and then you will wait for your Arraignment Hearing. I have it on good authority that the State will be looking to keep you from being granted bail." She gestures to the waiting agent. "If that's all—"

Russell suffers the indignity of being pulled to his feet and turns to look at his lawyers. "Do _something_."

"We're on it Mr. Fabray. We'll get this dismissed before it even goes to trial, we're going to force an arraignment hearing within the next few hours and we'll have this completely taken care of."

Russell nods and lets the ignorant agent tug him toward the open door. He holds his head high, aware that any report is going straight to CNN and TMZ. He falters however when he spots his daughter, Quinn staring at him an angry look on her face but chooses not to engage. He'd deal with that later. Right now he had to do damage control and he needed to turn this into a case of government overreach.

* * *

 **AN: Hmm I imagine many of you won't like the next chapter or will feel let down, but there is I dunno like eight more chapters or so.  
**


	20. Chapter 20

Russell breaks into a wide grin as soon as the doors shut behind him. It was important that the American public saw that he was taking these accusations seriously, but he was almost salivating at the exposure this entire mess was going to give him. He could almost see the headlines and platforms that he would be able to exploit. Government overreach. Malicious prosecution. Free publicity until the election and all all those who already thought that the government was incompetent would more than likely vote for him.

He was going to be the next President of the United States. He could feel it. There was nothing and _no one_ that could stand in his way.

He practically glides into the courtroom, his entire legal staff already waiting at the table furthest from the Jury box. Those were the only empty seats in the courtroom and Russell took a deep breath to school his features for the myriad reporters and court analysts that were surely filling the courtroom gallery. He needed to look stately. Years from now, citizens would remember their president as the man who faced down the corrupt justice system without flinching.

He holds his hands out, allowing the insipid guards to uncuff him and he's certain that he won't ever have that experience again. He doesn't blink before turning back to his legal team and shaking the hand of his attorney.

"Don't worry Mr. Fabray, this won't take long. We should have you out of here quickly," Carl promises him looking at the media, this was going to be the _case_ of a lifetime. It would be the case that would put him on the map.

Russell nod and leans so only Carl could hear him, "Once we're done, I want to drag them through hell, I want them to regret bringing charges, every last one of them." He couldn't simply get rid of the entire FBI, though he could clean house, make sure that there were resignations, and a spate of firings. He'd have Sue's head on a platter.

Carl nods, and Russell feels the corner of his lips tick upward. He was a giant amongst men, a _god_ even and there was no evidence that he had done anything wrong. Carlos Lopez would never _snitch_ on him, and with his daughter and Santana dead he had very little to worry about.

"All rise!"

He pulls himself to his feet, it's a matter of going through the motions, he knew how this would go he had been a prosecutor himself. Judge Washington nods in his direction and sits down. "You may be seated. Counselors, please announce for the record."

Carl introduces himself as Russell's attorney followed by that Cohen-Chang woman. He rolls his eyes internally, promising himself to have a long talk with the DOJ about that woman's career. It's unfortunate that the judge assigned to this case isn't someone on his payroll, but he was certain he'd prevail anyway. Once he was cleared, the people behind these claims would rue the day they thought they could take down Russell Fabray. He wasn't about to take this personal attack lightly.

Judge Washington nods, "This is Docket Number 1:16-CR-98761—"

Carl nods and Russell feels the corner of his lips tick upward. He's mostly distracted when the Judge reads the charges—they're utter nonsense anyway, he's not sure why it even matters. Of course his lawyer says that he's pleading not guilty and he stands firm as his lawyer makes the case for bail. He's a public figure, a family man with no history of violence or criminal behavior. He must travel for work but has long established roots in the state and is at no risk of fleeing. Surrendering his passport should be enough to placate anyone who thinks this case will actually make its way to trial.

It's only when the State's Attorney begins making his claims for a twenty-five-million-dollar bond that Russell takes a break from his stately demeanor and looks around the room to give the reporters a good look. He needs to know who to grant interviews to in the coming weeks. He's surprised, but not shocked to see Quinn seated firmly behind the prosecution, looking straight ahead without blinking.

It hurts more than he thought it would to see her continuing betrayal. He had done many things in his life of which a lesser man might be ashamed, but he had always tried to be a good father to Quinn. Even when she refused to follow in his political footsteps, or when she married that annoying girl, he had tried to be supportive.

Someone must have gotten to her. Someone must have—he stops, his jaw dropping and his mouth drying up when a figure leans forward and waves, smirking widely.

It can't be.

No.

He shakes his head, sure that will clear his vision and pinches himself for good measure. She's supposed to be dead. But none of his tricks actually help and it _really is_ Charlie sitting beside her sister looking as if she were the cat that ate the canary.

It was still salvageable; a good public relations firm could fix this. He'd cry tears of joy in front of the camera, ask for privacy and keep her quiet. He'd _pay_ her to be quiet, to not say anything. There were still a few trusts in her name. He could still _win_ , it wouldn't be difficult to point out that she had been captured by _a cartel_ , all the horrible things that she had done to survive, he'd make her the most famous person in America, there would be movies made about her ordeal.

But all those thoughts are dashed when Charlie tugs Santana forward and into his line of sight. The dark look on her face—everything would come out. Every last conversation, every last meeting, years and years of criminal activity would come out and there was nothing that he would be able to do. It was odd—like seeing his entire life flash before his eyes. All his work, everything that he had done, every move that he had made selling his soul to the devil for a bit of power—it all came back to him.

And just like that, Russell knows it's over. There was still some way to salvage this, to make sure that none of it came out. He tugs on his attorney's shoulder and whispers softly. "Make a deal."

"What?" Carl exclaims out loud, surprising the entire courtroom.

Tina falls silent and looks over at Carl, a quizzical look on her face. Even the judge doesn't seem pleased with the outburst, but he didn't care. "Make. The. Deal. I'll plead guilty to some of the charges."

Carl looks at him for a minute and then nods, "Your honor? I apologize for the interruption; can we have a brief recess? Five minutes should be enough."

Russell rubs his brow and braces himself. He always thought he was building an empire. Now he sees the house of cards crashing down around him and he's powerless to stop it.

~O~

Santana ends the call with a lump in her throat. That was it? She had always expected—she startles when the door opens and quickly puts the burner phone in the trash to hide her tracks. "Oh. It's you." She sighs but doesn't feel any of the tension dissipate from her shoulders.

"Who else were you expecting?" Charlie retorts, she cocks her head to the side as she studies the fancy looking painting on the entryway wall. She never did understand paying thousands of dollars for a canvas and some color splashes, but whatever. Shaking her head, she turns back to Santana who has been acting weird all day.

Santana clears her throat. "I didn't expect to see you. I thought you'd be celebrating."

"Celebrating?"

"Russell's in custody. He plead _guilty_ for fuck's sake." Santana shakes her head, unable to stop the soft smile that graced her lips. "It seems like you're getting everything you ever wanted."

Charlie harrumphs loudly but doesn't say much else.

Santana's out of her depth. She's used to surly Charlie; she's used to sarcastic-as-shit Charlie. But this? She's not sure what she's supposed to say.

"Apart from being horribly anticlimactic it doesn't change _shit_ , not really. Killing him doesn't give me back the life I lost, it doesn't bring back my _mom_. It doesn't give me the time lost with Quinn—"

"Was there really a loss there?" Santana jokes and Charlie shoves her.

"It doesn't change what you did to me." Charlie adds after a moment, without looking at her. "Nothing changes these things. Whether he's dead or alive, I don't care. Because in the end it changes nothing. So I don't care really what happens. I just want to live my life you know, that's what matters in the end. I just want to be free to live my life— at least what's left of it to the fullest."

"I'm not going to stop you—"

Charlie laughs, " _Please_ you know that I can't just leave, you don't have anyone else watching your back, and you're a _terrible_ judge of character. And if you die Carlos is going to come after my ass, even if you're the one being _stupid_."

"Is that the only reason you'd stay by my side?" Santana asks trying to keep her face neutral.

Charlie looked at her, "Your dad is a very scary man Santana. What other reason is there then keeping myself alive?" Charlie presses.

Santana shrugs and gets up heading towards the stairs, "You're right of course. Go celebrate with your sister, go talk to her, it's been a _trying_ few weeks and I just want to sleep."

Charlie studies Santana for a moment. "I'll—"

"I want to sleep Charlie; I don't have time to deal with you wanting me." Santana interrupts holding her hand up.

Charlie scowls and flips Santana off, "Fine. Whatever you want. I've got to talk to Quinn anyway make sure that she isn't losing her mind." She watches Santana leave and shakes her head for a moment. "It's one of the reasons anyway," she mutters finally before heading to go and bother Quinn.

~O~

So much had happened in such a short amount of time, it was like emotional and physical whiplash. That was the only thing that was running through Quinn's head as she watched Santana and Tina going over her plea agreement for the final time. "So, you're just going to leave her alone?"

Santana didn't answer right away as she opened her checkbook. She tore the piece of paper and pushed it towards Tina, "I don't know if you have a victim's fund, or something that she can be a part of, but if you do put this through and give it to her."

Tina doesn't take the check. "You do know that the government froze your assets in connection with your illegal activities—"

Santana rolls her eyes and pushes the check one more time. "First, you said I have immunity, and _second_ this is from an offshore account."

Tina sighs and picks up the check. It's not the first time someone has left money behind and she smirks at the amount, "Nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents?"

Santana shrugs. "I wouldn't want to cause any extra paperwork or investigations."

"How kind of you." Tina smirks. "I'll do what I can."

"So what now?" Quinn folds her arms and scowls. "You leave? Just like that?"

"I was under the impression that is what you wanted me to do. To leave and never look back. Charlie's free. Which means that she can crash on your fucking couch for the rest of her life, and drink your expensive alcohol and bastardize your national dishes because she wants to make a point about me not eating tacos." Santana responds as she buttons up her expensive blazer and stands up. "I've got immunity, you're no longer an agent so we're _both_ going to go our separate ways after this."

"So your solution is to _hurt her_?"

"In case you didn't realize, I _raped_ your sister. A fact that she has not let me forget. You know it, I know it we all know it. If she misses me it's because I'm all she's known for the past sixteen years. She's never had a partner outside of me. So yes, my solution is to leave so she can experience something _normal_." The words feel dry in her throat but it's the only thing that she can do. Charlie deserves this. She deserves a chance at normalcy and that's not something Santana can give her. Not to mention that Charlie couldn't go back to Los Angelicos, her father had made that clear. He was cleaning house and given Charlie's connection to Russell she'd always have a target on her back.

Quinn swallows, what was she doing advocating for Santana to attempt to make it work with her sister? So instead she nods, "I'll take care of her."

"She doesn't need you taking care of her, let alone suffocating her with your rules. What she needs is something _normal_ , that's all she's ever wanted was something normal." Santana exhales. That wasn't true, Charlie would need someone and who better than to bring her sister back from guns and violence then the most boring person on the planet. "Tell her she's fired as my head of security. She's _terrible_ at her job," Santana smirks before nodding at Tina. "I'll be returning to Mexico, and I'd like to say that this has been fun but that would be a lie." Santana grumbles before turning to leave. "By the way tell your wife, that if she really wants to learn what it's like to be _gangster_ , have her come down to Mexico for a week."

"No, Rachel will get an Emmy without immersing herself in criminal culture, I think she's already learned enough and Charlie's here for her to badger," Quinn said shaking her head. "Don't die, she'll be upset if you die and she'll feel guilty."

"Fuck you," Santana responds to that and smiles at Quinn before nodding. Perhaps they would have gotten along if the circumstances were different.

* * *

 **AN: I did say that you wouldn't like this chapter, it was horribly anti-climatic wasn't it. There are 7 more chapters that simply deal with Charlie and Santana.**


	21. Chapter 21

Quinn studied her twin out of the corner of her eye, a skill she had perfected over the past year. It had been a long year, filled with its ups and downs, but it was something that she had gotten to share with her twin. It was something that she and Charlie worked on daily. She would personally like to believe that her twin trusted her not to abandon her—Santana's disappearance had hit Charlie hard. Harder than anyone would like to admit, but she was better now. Charlie was going to be okay, even if she still got defensive when she caught people staring.

Charlie rolled her eyes. Quinn was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. "Spit it out."

"Fine. Aren't you even going to open it?" She gestures to the letter. Charlie had studied for months to get her GED and the letter was _still_ unopened, lying in the exact same place Quinn had put it when she brought the mail in earlier this week. Quinn was _dying_ with anticipation. "You worked so hard on it."

Charlie turned to the letter on the table, she personally didn't really care. "Why does it matter? I probably failed. And even if I didn't what is it supposed to mean? It's not the same as a high school diploma, and I'm far too old to care about shit like that."

"So you don't mind if I open it then and find out?" Quinn asked reaching for the letter. "We both worked hard at it and I'm pretty sure that test is fucking harder than what we learned in high school."

Charlie frowned and shrugged. "Do whatever you want, I'm going to go do inventory," she says shaking her head.

"You've got to be joking."

"About needing to do inventory?" Charlie deflected, "No. I'm not. Because I think Terry is shorting us a couple of bottles of whisky with each order. Since the truck was _just_ unloaded I'm going to confirm it and then I'm going to inform that little weasel that we're finding a new supplier."

"Charlie, this is a _huge_ deal. You should be proud of yourself. So please for my own sanity, open the damn letter."

Charlie ignored her, and scratched her chin absentmindedly. "We'll probably have another busy night tonight—but if that guy from Hollywood shows up again I'm going to break a bottle over his head." Charlie bitches, as she begins to walk away. Getting into business with Quinn had been a _terrible_ idea. But apparently there wasn't much need for someone with her history. Quinn had also shot down becoming a bounty hunter, or starting their own private investigator's company. And she wasn't about to write a book, or sell her story to some Hollywood producer that Rachel kept introducing her too. Tearing up Santana's blood money had been stupid as well, no matter how satisfied it made her feel at the time. "If you want to read what's in the letter, read what's in the letter. I don't care Quinn."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "This is about Santana, isn't it?"

"Newsflash. Sometimes 'taking inventory' is just inventory. Not everything in this world is about Santana."

"But this is."

"No. It's not. It's definitely not about the woman who abandoned me." Charlie snaps in annoyance. "It's about the fact that I'm thirty-one years old and may or may not have gotten a stupid certificate saying that I have the competency of an eighteen-year-old. I don't _care_ what it says. I just want to move on."

But Quinn's not buying it. "So your idea of 'moving on' is ignoring any success you ever have?"

"My idea of moving on, is trying to create a successful business. That's what I want Quinn, to have the freedom so I can retire to some tropical island somewhere away from everyone. Bad shit happened to me, I don't understand why everyone wants me to rehash it for their damn amusement."

Quinn rolled her eyes and snatched the letter up and tore it open, if Charlie was going to be a child about it she was going to have to keep pushing her. She scanned the results and before Charlie could exit the room. "You passed."

Charlie stiffened, "God _damnit_ Quinn. What part of I don't want to know don't you get?"

Quinn shrugged, she was getting used to Charlie's little temper tantrums and she didn't feel all that bad about informing her twin that she had one less thing to worry about. "The part where you hide from every little piece of possible bad news. You passed. You can move on with your life. You're competent. It's one less thing for you to worry about now we can start looking at the universities—"

"Shit, can't you just _leave it_?" Charlie's _done_ with this conversation. There's a reason she didn't want to know, even if she can't really articulate it. She doesn't want to think of the pressure and stress of the future she had dreamed of as a kid.

"Charlie—"

"No. I don't want to hear it. I just want to take inventory and pour drinks for our regulars and _not worry about it_ for one fucking second. So I'm going to say it one more time. I don't want to talk about it anymore." It sucked. It sucked that she couldn't have opened up her bar without Quinn's help, because she didn't have any credit to her name. It sucked that she _needed_ Quinn to supervise. It made her feel like a child.

Quinn watched her twin sister for a moment and sighed, there were times when they were good and things just clicked between them and there were times like now where she simply pushed her too far. This wasn't how Charlie wanted to spend the rest of her life. Sure she was a business owner, but the bar wasn't doing that well to begin with, and Charlie was getting frustrated at her lack of success. It was a feeling that she understood, she didn't even want to own the damn bar. But Charlie had needed help getting a loan and everything that she had saved was quickly dwindling to nothing.

Quinn sighed and picked up her phone so she could call her wife, this wasn't what Rachel wanted her to do with her life either. She understood, but Rachel was under the opinion that she needed to be much more hands off with Charlie and let her figure things out. She had attempted to do just that until Charlie had been caught attempting to get across the border nearly six months ago to go and find Santana. "Rachel, I think I stepped in it again," she said with a sigh flicking her eyes to the stupid letter.

 _'_ _Quinn, I know it's difficult but I'm just about to go on set. I'll see you tonight, I promise. Just, apologize. Charlie is clearly working through some things and you just need to be patient. Also perhaps, we'll throw her a party soon to celebrate getting her GED. Perhaps when she finally feels good about it—now I have to go Quinn, the director is staring at me.'_

"Love you," Quinn murmurs and she can practically feel Rachel's huge grin through the phone.

' _I love you too_."

Quinn leaned back for a moment and then sighed she would help Charlie with the inventory and then apologize. It seemed that this was just another one of Charlie's many issues. Which meant that she needed to handle her twin with kid gloves.

~O~

Sebastian was _not_ thrilled as he picked up the empty bottle that was lying beside Santana. "If you're going to be this pathetic, ma'am, I suggest that you take it elsewhere. I've given you a few months to adjust but this is bordering on the _pathetic_." He didn't flinch when Santana shot him a dark look. "No, excuse me. You crossed over to pathetic the moment you came back. I was simply far too polite to say anything about it to you. An odd thing, given the fact that I'm hardly polite about anything."

"Fuck _you_."

"Well, I'd certainly like cock every now and again but we've had this conversation. I'm not attracted to pathetic people and ever since the bitch left you've been a whiny little shit. Yes, I get it. Your best friends betrayed you. Your father already had Finn brutally murdered in prison. I hear it wasn't pretty."

Santana turned over after flipping him off, she honestly didn't care. "Sebastian. My men have fucking left me and I don't trust anyone to have my back like they did before. I'm sure my security detail is fucking incompetent, which means I can't leave the goddamn compound, which also puts me at risk." Santana bitches, Charlie could have handled it. It was a lot to put on her, but she was competent.

Sebastian groaned inwardly, "So you're still thinking with your dick. Good to know, at least that's fixable. There are other _competent_ women in Los Angelicos who are exactly what you're looking for and would love to be with you. Would love to become the power couple—that you and Charlie were _never_ going to be. Both you and Charlie both know that your relationship didn't start out as consensual and anything after the fact still wasn't consensual. You never gave her the opportunity to choose you. So this romanticizing of the facts needs to end."

Santana sat up so she could glare at Sebastian and then made a face when he didn't flinch, she had clearly lost her touch. "I'm not romanticizing anything. I'm aware that Charlie could never love me, I'm aware that what we had was beyond fucked up and messed up. I'm _aware of this—"_

"Are you aware of the fact that she's had the tattoo removed?" Sebastian reminds her. "Or that she's turned down every attempt that you've made to give her money for her new bar?"

Santana muttered a few expletives under her breath, she knew about the damn money but not the tattoo. Charlie was far too stubborn and proud to take her money, even though her stupid little bar was probably failing. "I don't give a shit."

"Good, then perhaps we can _talk_ about how you're going to re-cement your spot as the future head of the Los Angelicos. It's been a year and I assure you that your father's patience has been wearing thin. You know as well as I do, that Charlie couldn't stay in Mexico. Not with the giant target that would be on her back. People think that she snitched, they have no idea what your involvement in all of this was."

"You think I _enjoyed_ going to the damn feds—"

"I don't really care if you enjoyed it or not, the fact is that you did. The only people who know are your father and myself. Your father isn't going to _kill_ you for it, but he's losing his patience Santana and is actively looking for a new heir to the throne, because he _thinks_ that you no longer want it anymore."

Santana narrowed her eyes, "I don't think we should be making deals with senators anymore, I don't think we should be getting in the business of kidnapping teenagers anymore. I think that we should take a good long hard look at our _legitimate_ businesses and move in that direction. I have a clean slate, courtesy of the US government. We can make _billions_ instead of millions." Her father _knew_ she was right, and more importantly she knew she was right.

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fine, do as you wish, but I'm telling this as the only person who can deal with your _bitchy_ attitude. Your father isn't pleased Santana. If you need closure on the damn Charlie situation, then go and see her and talk to her. I can't imagine she'll be thrilled to see you. But for my sanity and quite frankly yours, you need to get over her."

Santana did the only thing that she could think of, she flipped him off before flopping back on her lounge chair. "Get me another mojito," she grumbles at him.


	22. Chapter 22

"Is this what you've been doing with your time?"

Santana froze from where she had been reaching for her bong on the table, she shivered and looked up at her father who had a disapproving look on his face. For a man in his late sixties, he still had that imposing look, even with the grey hair and the wrinkles. She frowns and drops her lighter on the table so she can look at him. "It hasn't interfered with my work, has it?"

"What work? You've spent the past year holed up in this _shit_ hole, doing nothing but getting high and moping around your pool like some lovesick _teenager_. It's pathetic." Carlos took a step forward and picked up the bong on the table and crinkled his nose. "What have I said about testing the product?"

"Do I look stupid? It's a bit of weed, I'm not getting high on heroin or the coke that we sell. I'm not a fucking dumbass," Santana fires back reaching for the bag of chips on the counter. "Besides, I told you where we needed to move the Los Angelicos, it doesn't matter if our empire was built on drugs. We can still make it work for us, we can make _billions_ in our legitimate ventures."

"Perhaps," Carlos said before throwing the bong against the ground smashing it to pieces. "But, I'd _never_ trust you to run it."

"Of course you don't." She laughs to herself, tempted to light up a joint and take a long drag just to piss him off. "After everything I've given up for our family—everything you've put me through, why should expect my own father to trust me?"

"And why should I?" Carlos shot back, "You went to the _FBI_. You betrayed everything we stand for and if you weren't my only child you'd be dead in a ditch."

"Lucky me."

"Also, this new drug habit is disgusting." Carlos picks up the small baggy with disdain. "All this over some _girl_?"

Santana bristled, and looked past her father to where Sebastian was standing quietly, he was a fucking _traitor_ just like everyone else in her life. "I don't know what you're talking about. This isn't about _some_ girl. This is about the fact that my friends are _dead_ , because they fucking betrayed me. This is about the fact that you _forced_ the issue of me and Charlie and now you're upset that I got attached to having someone who was fucking loyal to me. Oh, wait—she wasn't loyal to me she was just fucking terrified that you were going to skin her alive if I got so much as a scratch on me. I did what I had to do to stay alive, and to put an end to Russell."

"By going to the Feds?"

"He was going to be president of the _fucking_ states; you don't think he would have turned on us eventually? Don't be fucking stupid. We were a liability; it was the only move that we could make." Santana sneers. "It was the intelligent decision, you know it. I know it. Fuck the optics. We're Los Angelicos, we're like fucking roaches, we always find a way to survive."

The hard slap stings her cheeks before she sees it coming. "Don't you dare talk to me like that. I am your _father_ and I'm still the leader of the Los Angelicos. You'll show me some respect."

"Or what?" She challenges, ignoring the stinging in her cheek and facing him head on. "What _more_ can you take from me?"

"Your mother spoiled you and your abuela wasn't much better."

"Yeah, well they're dead so it's convenient to blame them, but let's be real _Papi,_ you spoiled me just as much as they did." She snaps.

Carlos studied her for a moment, she had a point that he didn't truly want to admit to. He _had_ spoiled his daughter. "If the men knew what you did, if they understood that you became a _rat_ to save your own skin then they would kill you. It was easy enough to lay the blame at Charlie's feet, it was her father who had betrayed us. But for you to mourn her loss—it sends a terrible message to the men, and I assure you that they are watching."

"I don't give a fuck about the men. She did what you asked her to, you know that, I know that. And Russell was a threat to all of us, he was already on track to win the presidency. What were we going to do when he was in charge of every fucking federal law enforcement agency in the world? We did the right thing and even now Los Angelicos is still standing at the brink, which is why I'm saying to you that we need to go _legit_."

Carlos frowned deeply, she was right. He knew she was right but they still had time as far as he was concerned. "With you like _this_ , getting high like one of the lower level _punks_? Why should I trust you to run the empire? You've never truly _grown up_. I told you, get a family mature instead of trying to be this irresponsible—"

"You don't think I _wanted that_?" Santana groans flopping down on the couch. "You think I didn't want to do that with her? I swore that I was never going to _force her_ to do anything again, what was I supposed to do? Force her to have my kids?"

Carlos raised a brow. "Did you ask?"

"Why the fuck would I ask her that? She doesn't love me; she thinks of it as a chore. That I'm a fucking chore that she needed to watch and babysit because apparently I couldn't be trusted to choose the right people to be beside me. I'm the person who stole everything that is important to her. Her virginity, _everything_. I'm the person who made sure she never had another lover! I'm the—"

Carlos sighs and Santana falls silent trying to find the right words. It hasn't always been easy for Santana and though he's a hard man he loves his daughter. "So let's say she did accept you. Then what? She can't come back."

"I know that."

"The men _know_ what she did and they hate her for it. She's a _rat_. She knows this and you know this. So what are you going to do about it? If she does accept you can you truly leave all this behind?"

Santana gulps down the lump in her throat. "It doesn't matter. She _doesn't_ accept me. As for giving this all up, I'm beyond done with this life, that's why I'm telling you that the future is in being legit. We won't have to worry about paying off corrupt officials, we won't have the full might of the US government breathing down our necks. Going legit is the only thing that we can do. You know the biggest gangsters in the world are the ones that work on Wall Street."

He blows out a breath. Their empire has continued to grow over generations of Lopez's and they've always done it the same way. But she does have a point and maybe it is worth reviewing. "Fine. If that's how you feel, I'll look into it." He weighs his options before pulling the plane ticket out of his pocket and drops it unceremoniously into her lap. "But until I do, go see her and find out if you can fix things between you."

"What part of it don't you—"

"You _love_ her and until you know for sure, you're going to be miserable. Haven't we made enough decisions for Charlie? Maybe it's time you let her make her own choice. It's completely up to you of course. That's an economy ticket."

Santana made a face. "Economy?"

"You haven't made me any money. Basic economy." Carlos smirked before nodding at Sebastian.

Santana watched as her father walked out, "Bastard," she grumbled and looked over at Sebastian. "Charlie's not the only rat."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sebastian sniffed dramatically. "Should I pack your shit?" He smirks when Santana flips him off. "I'll take that as a yes."

~O~

Charlie wipes down the countertops, glad that Quinn is off doing fuck knows what with Rachel. At least it gives her a few free minutes without Quinn breathing down her neck.

She frowns, knowing that it's not fair. Quinn had done everything that she could, but that didn't stop it from feeling stifling. It wasn't as if Quinn didn't try, but her sister would never _truly get it_. They weren't just going to fall back in line and she certainly didn't want to go and see some fancy therapist. She didn't want to talk about it. She wasn't suicidal, she wasn't going to slit her wrists or go on a rampage. She was _fine_. Bored out of her mind but _fine_. As fine as someone in her position could be.

Rachel had suggested finding a church, but as far as she was concerned if God existed, she wouldn't have had to go through the hell that she went through. She wouldn't have been abandoned for making the _right_ decision. Which was why she was stuck in this hellhole.

It wasn't that she didn't love her bar, she did, but it wasn't successful. After paying the bank back for the loan there was very little left over. The only good thing was that she had enough for her own little hole in the wall. It was ratty and broken down, and half the appliances didn't work but it was hers.

"Another Scotch?"

"If I give you another scotch, I'm going to have to take your keys, Ken."

"Whatever." Her regular grumbles from the stool.

Charlie rolls her eyes. Whatever. Ken's an asshole, but it's more money in her pocket at the end of the night and he's a fairly decent tipper too. He also doesn't notice the difference between top shelf and cheap-ass scotch, so that makes him even better in her book. She pours the scotch, glad when he offers up his keys without another word.

"She left me, you know. For some guy who wears a fucking sweater vest."

"Well, she clearly has no taste," Charlie lies, patting Ken on the hand before going back to cleaning up. "You've got a good job, you're a good man Ken."

"I am aren't I?"

"You are." Charlie responds.

"So why don't me and you—" Ken slurs.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen, buddy. But I'm not the only girl out there. You're going to find somebody who appreciates you and _she's_ not going to leave you for some guy in a sweater vest." Charlie pours him another drink. "Do you want me to call you a cab Ken? Make sure you get home right?"

"I don't wanna go home. It's _lonely_."

Charlie sighed and bit her lip. It was already after one in the morning and she didn't actually want to deal with this lunatic for much longer. Her bed was calling her and she needed to put what she had made into the safe. "You know what Ken, you need to go home and get cleaned up and I'll help you find a woman, we can do that internet dating thing together. We'll fill out the little questionnaire and see who we get alright?" It was pathetic but it was better than Quinn and Rachel attempting to set her up with strange people. She didn't even know how to begin that conversation about her formative years.

Ken nods before nearly falling over, "Right—you could totally get me the hot babes!"

Charlie raised a brow, but nodded, taking his phone from him and ordering an Uber for him. She relaxes when she notices that there was a car nearby and she hops the bar so she can help Ken to his feet and out the door. She'd done this many times when he'd gotten blackout drunk, and was used to him groping her clumsily in his drunken stupor. At least he had paid for all of his drinks and had given her a generous tip, he had known it was going to be one of those days.

She shoves Ken into the van and gives the guy the directions to his place before stumbling back and stretching. She would close up early and perhaps she would start looking at some community college business classes. She had no intention of telling Quinn what her plans were, mostly because she personally had no idea. But she wasn't used to having this much free time, even after a year. "Fuck my life," she mutters under her breath as she runs a hand through her hair and heads back into her crappy little bar.

She stops at the door frowning; she had made sure that the door was closed. The damn thing got stuck and sometimes didn't close properly unless it was forced, which was why she had made sure that it was closed. She hadn't even _noticed_ anyone around or she would have locked up. Quinn insisted that she wasn't allowed to carry anymore, that she was returning to civilian life. She was going to have a long discussion with her twin about her inalienable rights later. Exhaling slowly, she opens the door ready to get the bat that she had behind the counter, when she stops upon seeing a familiar face sitting with her fancy shoes on her table.

"Fuck, this place is a shit _hole_." Santana sneered. "You don't even have anything _good_ to drink."

It's a moment of shock, which is quickly replaced by the white hot rage she felt towards her former _tormentor_. " _You_." Charlie snarled immediately lunging for Santana.


	23. Chapter 23

Charlie gasped for air, stumbling backwards her right fist slick with blood as she sat down. She inhales and exhales deeply narrowing her eyes at Santana. Worth it. That had been incredibly _worth it_ , even if she was terrified that Carlos was going to murder her. She shakes her hand before rubbing it.

Santana spits blood and smirks as she sits up, wiping her nose and takes in the woman she hadn't seen in over a year. She hadn't lost any of the trim muscle definition she had sculpted during her time with Los Angelicos. She looked good. "It's nice to see why you've turned down my money. Clearly, business is booming."

"Fuck you." Charlie spits, though it lacks the bite that it should after hitting Santana repeatedly. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too. I'm glad to see I was so missed." Santana drawls, it's unintentional but her lips are swollen and she's sure that Charlie somehow managed to chip a tooth. But she wasn't going to let Charlie of all people see her in pain.

Charlie's eyes narrow before she pushes herself up. She needed a drink, the stiffest drink that they had. She grabs something from the top shelf and pours it for herself, before draining it. She turns her attention to Santana once more deciding that she wasn't sufficiently _buzzed_ for this. "If you're here to kill me, I won't make it easy for you."

Santana rolled her eyes, "What happened to I just want to visit Fatburger?"

Charlie reached for her bat, resting it on her shoulders as an unspoken threat. "Let's just say that I've grown up a little since then. So why don't you cut the shit and tell me why you're here."

"I see." Santana wipes her thumb again at the blood seeping from her nose. "I'm not here to kill you, if that's really what you're worried about."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me," Santana says as she pulls herself up and walks to the bar, she pulls out her wallet and places a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the counter. "Whatever you have that's good. By my standards, not your shitty bars standards. You still know how to make drinks like I like them right?"

Charlie scowls. "What makes you think that I'll serve you?" She's just being obstinate now, the hundred-dollar bill looks really tempting but she's not about to accept Santana's money. "You _left_ me with tweedle-dee and her wife—"

"Does that make you tweedle-dumb?" Santana smirks.

"Whatever. Why are you here Santana? I mean you aren't here to just torment me, so I'm guessing you have business in the city, you just stopped by to make my life miserable in the process. Thanks for that."

"You're welcome." Santana intentionally fails to answer Charlie's real question. What _is_ she doing here? This is a mistake and she was just going to have to tell her Papi that Charlie still hates her. What else could she expect? "Los Angelico's might be going legit, we have enough money and enough resources to make the switch. My dad will probably be a gangster until he dies, but I want to do things legally. The real gangsters are the wall street guys you know?"

"No. I don't."

Santana frowned slightly, she hadn't been expecting that. So instead she changes the conversation. "Well, I never thought you'd manage all this without me. Location sucks, you need more people and less sad people—"

"My bar is doing fine." Charlie isn't going to stand for this. "I'm surprised _you're_ still _alive_ , what with everyone you know trying to kill you."

"It must be my sunny personality."

"Cut the shit. Why are you here?"

Santana shrugged and smiled pushing her hundred-dollar bill forward. "To see you."

"Bullshit—"

"No, really I came to see you," Santana interrupts.

"Why? Oh—you're here to make sure I don't sell my story to some huge Hollywood producer or something right? That I don't accidentally leak Los Angelico secrets?"

"Well, personally as long as you can guarantee someone hot and can act plays me I don't really _care."_ Santana says with a shrug of her shoulders. "Now seriously about that drink and then we can go what I can imagine is _your_ shitty place, where we can have sex just like old times."

Charlie frowned deeply, "Wait—you came all this way to have sex with me?"

Santana flashed her a charming grin, "Well, I missed hearing you bitch at me all the time. Sebastian does it now, the bitching but he's not as good at it and I don't want to fuck him."

Charlie stares at Santana, she could always tell when Santana was lying, but she was also going to have to explain to Quinn why there was blood all over their bar. "If you're just going to lie and try and get into my pants then leave Santana. I don't _need_ you here being you. I'm supposed to be free of the life. I know our deal didn't end like it was supposed to but there is nothing I can do about that."

"You _are_ free of the life, aren't you? And don't act like I've been the bad guy after we took down Russell. Would have _wanted_ me to do anything different? Of course not." Santana snaps back. "You made it abundantly clear that you were only going to stay by my side because you were obligated to. I let you have your life back."

"So why are you here then? You _left_ without saying goodbye. You left me with my sister and a bunch of people that I didn't know—"

"Oh please, I gave you money. You're the one who was stubborn and threw it away."

"I ripped it up because I don't _want_ your money. I don't want anything from you! What part of that don't you understand?"

"You know what, you're right." Santana stands, shaking her head. "It was a mistake to come here. Enjoy your life Charlie."

Charlie crosses her arm over her chest. "Why are you really here Santana?"

"I don't know." Santana admits. "My father just bought me a ticket—" She shakes her head again. "Have a good life Charlie, I'll leave you alone."

"Good." Charlie doesn't budge as Santana turns toward the door. She twitches a little when Santana pauses at the door.

"Goodbye."

Charlie winces at the look that Santana flashes her, like a kicked puppy. As much as she loathed to admit it, the look pulled at her heart strings. She makes a face and hops the bar, closing the gap between them, as she grips Santana's arm and turns her around. "You're a fucking asshole you know that right?" She mutters, before pressing her against the door and kissing her deeply.

Santana grips onto Charlie's shirt, immediately tightening her grasp for a moment before deciding to spin this around. Charlie had never been in charge of their little encounters, and it wasn't going to start now, she pulls away for a moment so she can force Charlie's back against the wall. "I know," she mutters leaning up to press her lips against Charlie's.

~O~

"I don't see why we couldn't have slept in this morning." Quinn smirks and pulls gently at Rachel's top. Although this last year had been the utter demise of her professional career, she and Rachel had seemed to get back on track. She definitely would have preferred a lazy sex-filled morning.

Rachel rolls her eyes and slaps Quinn's hand away, balancing the warm Tupperware filled with bacon in her hand as she tried to balance finding her keys. "I told you. I have to pick Charlie's brain for the new episode filming next week. My career is important, Quinn"

"Of course it is." Quinn agrees quickly. "But you know you don't have to bring Charlie bacon _every_ time." She tries to help Rachel by taking the bacon filled container off her hands only for her wife to scowl at her. "No. none for you. I saw your last results from your physical."

"I'm _fine_."

"Your cholesterol is astronomical. So no. No bacon for you."

Quinn sighed dramatically and shrugged it off, "Fine, but you need to think about Charlie's cholesterol as well."

"Charlie works better on bribery, which is why I'm her favorite person in the world." Rachel lectures.

"If my sister wasn't weird, I'd be worried about how much you enjoy giving my sister treats."

"She responds better than you," Rachel teases.

"I'm not opposed to bribery." Quinn winks as Rachel finally manages to get the door open.

Rachel saunters into the bar. "I'll have to remember that next time—" She squeaks and drops the tupperware, spinning around on her heels. "Oh Barbra!"

Quinn rushes forward, pushing Rachel behind her to take care of whatever threat might be awaiting. She wishes she hadn't when she catches sight of Charlie's naked ass sprawled out unceremoniously along the bar countertop. She's practically draped across some conquest that seems to have given Charlie a run for her money. "Are you kidding me?"

Charlie looks up sleepily, "Oh, hey."

" _Hey_? This is where we _work_ Charlie! Could you be any more irresponsible?"

"Fuck." Another voice groans. Quinn stops in her tracks, her blood running cold when Santana sits up. "Do you always act like you've got such a stick up your ass?"

Charlie rolls off the bar counter and groans as she reaches for her underwear. "Santana, please. Quinn—don't. God my head hurts." Charlie runs a hand through her hair and glances at Rachel, sniffing the air. "Did you bring bacon?"

"What the _hell_ is she doing here?" Quinn hisses taking a step towards Santana.

"Quinn, don't—I'm sure that Santana has a very good reason to be here and—I've got nothing?" Rachel said and picks up the Tupperware of bacon. "I brought you bacon Charlie."

Santana rolled over and grinned at Quinn, "What's up tubbers? Like what you see? Your sister certainly—" Santana nearly falls over as Charlie throws a shirt at her face.

"Shut-up."

"Make me." Santana smirks and Charlie rolls her eyes.

Rachel pushes Quinn out of the way. Now that she's gotten over the shock of catching them so indisposed, she has to jump at the opportunity while it is here. "Santana. I'm not sure you remember meeting me, but I'm Rachel Berry." She's just being polite. Santana _must_ remember her. She's an Emmy nominated actress.

"Can't say that rings a bell." Santana shrugs off Rachel's interest. "Next time, maybe you can lock the door?" She looks at Charlie pointedly.

"They have a key." She shrugs, not particularly embarrassed. "Quinn owns the other half of the bar."

"Of course they do."

Rachel shakes off her shock and gets back to her main point. "Santana, if I could have a moment of your time, I'd like to ask you some questions. I intended to ask Charlie, but with you here I just—"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to go. Next time, let's take this to my hotel room."

Charlie salutes half-heartedly but the soft smirk on her lips tells Quinn she's not nearly as upset as she should be. "Fuck you."

"One can only hope." Santana throws back.

But Quinn blocks Santana's attempt to flee. "Hotel room? Does that mean you're staying for something longer than a booty call? Maybe I should call Brittany and let her know to be on alert."

"Go ahead, Charlie's a bit of an exhibitionist. We could use an audience."

"Goodbye Santana," Charlie snaps, watching as Quinn steps aside and lets Santana leave with a smirk on her face.

Quinn turns around and looks at Charlie. " _Seriously_?"


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: So, three more chapters and then we start something new, you have How I Met Your Mother (4 chapters), or I Know What You did Last Summer (70+) . I mean I do have plenty of other stories I think that are in the process of being made and those are all on my if you wish to support me. I'm currently in the process of rewriting True Love so look for that later this year. Probably. Hopefully. Anyway, you get to choose, between that or something else if I have it complete. Someone asked for Hellfire twice a month, I might do that. I mean I might post the entire first volume on free comic book day or something if I remember. Just need a bit more engagement.**

* * *

Charlie scowls but stands her ground. Quinn was the one who had barged in on _them_. Shouldn't _she_ be the one who was pissed off? What was Quinn's problem that she was going to act all high and mighty? It was just a little fun. "Seriously what? We had sex. What's the big deal?"

Rachel steps between them, intentionally trying to stave off the impending brawl. "I think you can understand that it was a bit of a shock for us Charlie. I hope—"

"The _big deal_? You're joking, right?"

"What?" Charlie shrugs. She knows Quinn's pissed and truthfully she probably has every reason to be. But she can't explain the way she and Santana work. It just is. She can't explain the fact that she's _grateful_ to know that Santana's not just going to skip town again. "We're both adults."

"You sure as hell don't act like it. Charlie, she's taking advantage of you."

Charlie smirks. If only Quinn knew the half of it. "Maybe I enjoy being taken advantage of." She wags her eyebrows suggestively and grins when Quinn shudders at the thought. "Seriously, just drop it. This is between me and Santana."

"Is it? Shit Charlie, what the hell is wrong with you? You had _sex_ with your ex-girlfriend who also _bought_ you to be her _fucking sex slave_." Quinn spits, practically fuming. How could Charlie be so dense? They'd tried for _months_ to break her out of her Santana-induced funk and here she is _fucking_ Santana in their bar?

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Oh." Quinn laughs sarcastically. "Of _course_ she's not. Because that might suggest a level of intimacy. Or that you two were ever on equal footing. No, she's your _rapist_. She abducted you. She destroyed your life—"

Charlie narrows her eyes. It wasn't like that. It was, but it also wasn't. And as much as she wanted to skin Santana alive, she didn't need Quinn breathing down her neck every five seconds. She was a grown adult and she didn't need Quinn's permission to make her own choices. "I know who Santana is—"

" _Do you_?" Quinn challenges. "Because I'm not so sure. She's _brainwashed_ you."

"Quinn—"

" _No_." She rounds on Rachel who had tried to interrupt. "I _told_ you we should have forced Charlie to go to some de-programmer. She's somehow gotten her talons in Charlie _again_ and I'm not going to sit by and watch my sister throw her life away. She's like a cancer and we should have taken care of it before—"

Charlie steps forward, angrily invading Quinn's space. "Don't talk about me like I'm not fucking here. What Santana and I do, that's none of your damn business."

"Of course it's my business."

"Oh, fuck off Quinn."

"No. It became my _business_ because she's got her head so far up her own ass and _you_ don't even see it. What was she doing here? Huh? Did she actually tell you? Because all _I_ heard is that she's sticking around so that you don't get away. She's a psychopath. Pure and simple."

"She's not—" Charlie tries, only to be interrupted again by her twin.

"Shit Charlie—"

" _No_. I'm sorry Quinn, you've done a lot for me. But you _don't_ get to tell me how to live my life. So shut your mouth and let me make my own decisions." Charlie snapped. She had run out of patience.

"No. Not when you're going to make bad ones."

"What are you going to do? Huh? You're going to go to your cop friends? Tell them to keep an eye out for Santana? Are you going to babysit me to make sure I don't do anything that perfect Quinn wouldn't approve of? You aren't my mother. She's _dead_. And last time I checked this was America, I can do whatever the fuck I want as long as it doesn't hurt anybody."

"You're _hurting_ yourself." Quinn frowns, she was trying her best to make sure that Charlie didn't feel trapped or in some sort of prison. She inhales sharply, she needed to calm down. Charlie could be reasoned with. "Have you ever been with someone other than Santana?"

"Of course I have." Charlie scoffs. She doesn't care that it's a flat-out lie. That doesn't _matter_.

But Quinn can see through her twin's bullshit. "Liar."

"So what if I am?"

"Charlie," Quinn pleaded. "Your only lover has ever been Santana. How can you even—shit Charlie. How do you even know that you _want_ to sleep with her?"

"Because she doesn't want to sleep with anyone else," Rachel speaks up. Quinn was going about this in the wrong way and was forcing Charlie to get defensive. "The better question is Charlie; how do you know that Santana is any good? How do you know that you two are compatible? I mean surely there are things that she's done that you didn't want to do before?"

"Obviously, but I mean I ended up liking it so what does it matter?" Charlie shrugged, not noting how Quinn turned a dark purplish color. "I mean; I don't have to do it anymore with her. I want to."

"But surely you could find someone else—there must be something she does that you still don't like."

"She's got terrible aim." Charlie smirks, she shouldn't find it so endearing.

"Gross." Quinn shuddered. "She treats you like you're her own personal porn star, and you're okay with that? You're okay with being her lackey?" Quinn swallows and steps forward. "You're okay with her _owning_ you? That's what this is about isn't it? I was there when you told me what the tattoo on your chest means. That you're one of _her_ girls."

"It's not—"

"But that's how it started, and I know you've seen it. The prostitutes who fall in love with their pimps. Even though they beat them—hell I know you know what happens to the girls who run with gangs. You know what their initiation is."

"It was never like that in the Los—"

"They are _property_. You are her property and she wants her toy back. That's all you are to her Charlie. That's all you've ever been to her even if you think otherwise," Quinn pushes, knowing she has Charlie on the ropes. "You know how you know, because she probably touched the stupid tattoo on your chest and she smiled, she smiled and said something probably rude and inconsiderate that made you feel worthless or close enough to it for that moment."

"You're wrong," Charlie states after a moment, her voice wavering. "She's not _like_ that. She would never pass me around or hit me—I mean yeah. I belong to her. I mean I don't belong to her but—" She closes her mouth, she didn't know how to explain it and both Quinn and Rachel had horrified looks on their faces. "This is why I don't try and talk to you about this shit."

Quinn frowns, she had pushed too hard and to fast, but Charlie was at least _thinking_ about what she said. "I know, I'm coming off as judgmental and preachy Charlie. I know that you don't like feeling trapped or controlled. I know that but Santana is—I mean apart from throwing money at you, and letting you drink her expensive booze, has Santana ever shown that she cares for you?"

"Outside of maybe cuddling after sex," Rachel adds gently.

"See, that's just it. You wouldn't understand."

"Help us try."

Charlie sighs. "You want to know if she's ever shown that she cares about me? All the fucking time. Santana's a bitch, she's petty and self-absorbed and _broken_. But she's also the person who would bitch and complain that she's bored of reading the same stuff so that I could have my own personal library. She's the person who threatened to kill Russell on multiple occasions because he hurt _me_ —"

"That's hardly—"

"But see, that's why you _can't_ get it. And it's fucked up. I wish it wasn't. As much as I hate her, I also understand her better than anyone on this planet. If she came all the way here, she came for _me_. But the reason she didn't answer your fucking question is because she's too much of a bitch to admit it." Charlie shakes her head and rubs her brow tiredly. "Which is why therapy or anything else you think up isn't going to help. Because I know what I want, but the whole thing is too fucked up." She pushes past Quinn to the back staircase, suddenly needing the chance to be alone for a while. "Thanks for the reminder."

"Charlie—" Quinn tries to go after her.

But Rachel's there to intercept. She puts her hand on her wife's elbow, gently holding her back and shakes her head. "She just needs time."

Quinn frowns but knows that Rachel is right. Sometimes she just wished that she could fix it. Instead, she worried that she only made it worse.

~O~

Santana pushes open the door the bar, frowning when she realizes that it's stuck, and grunts as she shoves it open. She raises a brow when a few people turn to look at her, "You need a new door," she calls out to Charlie who was working the bar quietly. When Charlie doesn't answer she heads toward her and takes a seat picking up a coaster placing it down. "I realized I forgot to tell you where I was staying."

Charlie grunts at this and places a beer on Santana's coaster. "Enjoy."

Santana narrows her eyes staring at the god awful drink in front of her, she hated cheap beer. It was disgusting, and it smelled bad. How anyone could drink it was beyond her. She looks at the fat guy who is drinking away and eating some peanuts and pushes the coaster to him. "This isn't me hitting on you," she informs him bluntly. "I am just not in the habit of drinking cat piss."

"Yeah, well cat piss is the only thing I'm going to be selling you." Charlie snaps.

Santana blinks, "You're mad at me again. I'm going out on a limb and assuming that this is Quinn's doing? The big bad gangster—"

Charlie slams the bottle she's holding so hard on the counter that she's surprised it doesn't shatter. "I am capable of making my own choices."

Santana holds up her hands defensively. "Never said you weren't," she licks her lips noting that they were still swollen from yesterday. "All I'm saying is that I thought you were done beating me up. We did that yesterday; my face still hurts but if you want to beat the shit out of me again—that's fine. Just you know my face is one of my best features."

Charlie exhales noisily and moves to serve other people, she could just ignore Santana until she went away. She had work to do and she had promised that there would be no more having sex on the bar, Quinn had made her clean it up.

Santana hummed and pulled out her wallet. "Hundred dollars to everyone who gets the fuck out of this shitty little bar right now." She holds up a wad of cash and grins as Charlie's customers immediately move to take her up on the offer.

"Are you serious right now?" Charlie snapped at her. Quinn was going to _murder_ her. They weren't doing so well this month. "This is my livelihood."

"Serving drinks in some dingy bar? Here's a thousand dollars, probably more than you would have made tonight anyway. Do I have your fucking attention now?" Santana demands putting the money down on bar and turning to make sure that she finished paying the last guy so she could finally be alone with Charlie.

"No. Because no matter how rich you are, you can't _buy_ my attention."

"Shit Charlie, if you don't want me here, just say so." Santana pauses and then grins. "Unless this is like last night—"

"It's not."

Santana frowned at this, deciding to put it to the test, "Fine I'll leave then. Not going to apologize for clearing out your shitty bar though. Probably did them a favor, protecting them from alcoholism or some shit." Santana tosses another hundred on the bar and gets up and walks out. She knew Charlie well enough that she was certain it wouldn't take long for her to come after her.

Except for she didn't.

She waits for at least five minutes before frowning and spinning on her heel, storming back toward the bar and ripping the door open. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're supposed to come after me."

Charlie glances up from where she's wiping down the bar. "Why? Why the fuck do I have to come after you? You're the one that left. You're the one that leaves. I'm not your plaything Santana." Charlie bites her lip. "I'm not your fuck-toy anymore."

"Please you haven't been my personal dick warmer in about fifteen years. Every time we sleep together it's on your terms. Trust me if I wanted you to be my dick warmer, I would have had you kidnapped again. It certainly would have made me feel better."

"Is that supposed to be _reassuring_." Charlie glares at Santana, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Yes? I follow your stupid rules; I don't touch you unless you want me to. I don't do anything unless you give me an okay somehow. So don't stand there and tell me that I've been treating you like a slave. I _haven't_. I gave you your freedom in a manner of speaking ages ago. You're the one that comes crawling to me when you have an itch that needs to be scratched."

Charlie scowls, "Because everyone was afraid of what you'd do to them if they touched me."

"Because you're mine."

"Fuck you. You only see me as your possession and I'm done stroking your delicate ego."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Yeah, you're mine. But you've ruined me for everyone else. So thanks for that."

"You're welcome." Charlie huffs.

"You want the truth? I'm here because the entire crew was sick of me moping and my Papi bought me a one-way ticket to see if this was salvageable. I'm trying to go _straight_ because it's the best thing for Los Angelicos and even though I'm _right,_ I don't have the support to do it because everybody thinks I'm just hung up on you." Santana shakes her head, laughing derisively. She can't even believe that she's gotten herself into this mess. "And the worst part is that _they're_ right. It _is_ because of you."

"Oh like I should believe that."

Santana narrows her eyes. "I _know_ you believe it. I wanted to go straight so that you could come back, so that you could be proud of me." But she was fooling herself. This was never going to work.

Charlie swallows. "You know when I was a kid, I never really understood certain things. Why women went back to their abuser. I didn't get it, I mean if he hit you, just leave. Tell the police and leave. He goes to jail; your problem is solved you can move on with your life. I always told myself that it would never happen to me." Charlie makes a face. "But here I am. You _kidnapped me_ , you raped me. You branded me as your property, and I don't know how I feel about you. I should hate you. I should want you dead and there are many days that I do. There are other days when I wish you hadn't done all that shit to me. Because then I wouldn't feel this way. I wouldn't feel _guilty_ , and confused, and everything else that I feel, that's hard for me to get into words."

"I guess that's the answer then." Santana swallows thickly. "I mean I get it. Things between us were never going to work out. They _couldn't_."

"I'm saying that I have these weird complicated unexplainable feelings for you that make me feel guilty and angry and confused. If it had just been the kidnapping—then maybe I wouldn't feel guilty and angry, maybe a bit confused. But it wasn't just that. You took something from me, something that I can't get back. For what? I probably would have fallen in love with you regardless."

Santana laughs. She should get out of there as quickly as she can. Charlie manages to disarm every emotional wall she's ever constructed. But she's always been a little bit of a masochist, "Right. Sure you would have."

"I said probably. We'll never know. What I do know is that you never needed someone who was completely subservient to you, and the women you surrounded yourself with—I don't know your story, I'm not even going to pretend to know, but Quinn asked me what you did for me other than use me as a sex object. And I told her, some of the shit and it got me thinking. You made me feel better sometimes, and you do care about me in your own twisted little way."

Santana stands clenching her fists, not quite knowing what to say. "I don't have a time machine—"

"No. You don't." Charlie responds. "You don't have a time machine; you can't fix what's broken between us. Just like there's no psychiatrist, psychologist, or twin sister who has my best interests at heart, who can fix me. Who can make what I feel for you less complicated and less damaging. Now I don't know what I want in life. I think I want to try dating people. I've never been on a date before." Charlie admits scratching her cheek.

"Good luck with that." Santana snaps. She's had one experience too many with dating. "Well I hope you get your little picket homed house and whatever else you want. Good luck or whatever in your fucking endeavors."

"Yeah. You too." Charlie retorts watching as Santana turned around and stormed out.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: The first 50 or so chapters of IKWYDLS will be done back to back, the last 28 chapters will be weekly or something. Haven't decided.**

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"Santana, while I imagine that you're absolutely devastated that Charlie rebuffed your romantic overtures, let's be completely real here. You could do so much better than Charlie. Clearly she is an idiot who doesn't quite understand what a catch you are. This is a good thing Santana, a minor miracle. Charlie was never loyal to you; she was loyal to your father. You and I know this. And what happens if you do manage to go legit? Charlie isn't someone you take to deal with the office parties. She's not highbrow enough for that. She would feel much more comfortable at a baseball game eating a disgusting hot dog and getting mustard all over herself." Sebastian lectured from where he was.

"It's fine." Santana throws some of her clothes into her bag.

"It doesn't sound fine." Sebastian notes.

"I'm calling because I need you to book me a flight. Can you do that? Or do I need figure that out for myself?" She snaps. She's not in the mood to be lectured. Not about this.

Sebastian sighed loudly, the things he did for Santana. "What exactly did she say?"

"Why does it matter?" Santana snaps at him. "It's over."

"Santana, I don't like Charlie. Which is putting it _mildly_. I personally believe that she ruined you, I remember when you had so much ambition and drive. I remember when you would have killed a bitch if they had been taken by the FBI for questioning. More importantly, Charlie knows this as well. Despite me questioning her intelligence on a daily basis, she is observant to know that she's special. So, I want to know if she truly wants you out of her life and if that's the case just kidnap her again, at this point in her life she's probably used to it. Or if this is simply one of those situations where the both of you—aren't _listening_ to what the other person is saying."

"It's just the same old bullshit. I ruined her life, how she's angry and confused and some other shit." Santana frowned and clenched her fists tightly, she could feel the lump in her throat again. "She wants to fuck other people. Or some shit like that, some fucking sexual revolution. If she wants to go whoring herself out— _fuck_. Fuck her. I mean I thought she was different, instead all she wants to do is do the boring shit and date or some fucking thing like that. I didn't think she was the type that fucking would let anyone into her pants just because they bought her a fucking meal." It hurt far more than she wanted to admit. There was a part of her that had hoped that she stood a chance. That Charlie liked her, and maybe they could be together. But that had been just a fucking pipe dream.

"Isn't that how you got into her pants on most occasions? Charlie isn't exactly difficult to figure out. Booze, some cheap food that drips with grease and has far too much salt and calories, and she's taking her clothes off for you." Sebastian reminds her. It generally worked like a charm and he had a feeling that Santana believed that he was manipulating Charlie in some form or rather. Whenever she in one of her moods Santana would ply her with food and booze which generally worked like a charm. He had a feeling that Charlie did it because she got the best food in the world.

"Don't be fucking stupid! It's not the same thing."

"Sounds like the same thing." Sebastian reasons. "Also if Charlie wants to go on a date where you buy her food and talk to her or go see some stupid movie together, then why can't it be you? You need food, you like crappy movies this shouldn't be painful for you."

"Don't you get it? She doesn't _want_ me. I'm not going to make a fool out of myself just so that Charlie can tell me what the rest of us already know."

"That she's in love with you?" Sebastian questions. He hears Santana scoff at this, "I don't know when it happened, and I imagine her feelings for you are complex and confusing to her, but it wasn't exactly a secret that she had some sort of positive feelings towards you. But if you're going to just give up because she didn't drop her pants and bend over for you then that's perfectly understandable. Who wants to be in a relationship where you have to work at it anyway? I mean obviously Charlie does, but I can see why you wouldn't want to."

Santana stopped, hesitating not quite sure what to say next. She wasn't a masochist and this seemed to be a terrible idea. Charlie could say no once more, she could tell her about all the new people she wanted to sleep with, how she was no longer hers. It could hurt badly. "I raped her."

Sebastian shrugged, "You stopped and gave her most of the power didn't you? She chose to come back to you. She chose to stay in your bed, and most times she initiated it afterwards. So it's complicated, every relationship is in it's own way. You hurt her, she hurt you, if this is what gets the two of you off—well it's none of my damn business."

Santana was quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip. Sebastian was terrible when it came to relationships so taking his advice was like shooting herself in the foot. So if this all went south, which she truly believed it would then she was going to shoot him in the foot. "Okay. How do I do this then? Take her out on a date?"

"Well, I hear kidnapping is a thing that she's used to," Sebastian quips.

~O~

Quinn studied Charlie from where she was doing inventory, her twin had been cleaning the same spot on the bar for the past twenty minutes. It was _difficult_ for her _not_ to push Charlie into talking. There was a balance that she still hadn't figured out after a year. "You're going to scrub a hole into the bar you know if you keep it up," she says finally watching as Charlie blinks and looks up at her.

"Sorry, I was just—" Charlie shrugs and tosses the rag down and grabs a container filled with dirty glasses. "Never mind."

Quinn nods and goes back to looking at her clipboard. An awkward silence fills the room and she shifts uncomfortably. "Dad—Russell has been placed in solitary confinement again. It's for his own protection—"

"I don't care," Charlie interrupts dropping the grey container in the sink and grabbing a glass so she could rinse them off. "I told you that, I don't care what happens to him. It doesn't change anything. Doesn't bring back mom, doesn't make me feel better, doesn't fix any of this."

"I'm not telling you this so you could know, but it's difficult for me too you know. I mean he was never winning any father of the year awards, he's always been a capital grade _douche_ but, I didn't think he was evil. I just always thought he was one of those fathers who didn't know how to really _be_ a dad. That he loved us, that he honestly was trying to find you. I thought he was a good dad. I don't know how you felt about it when you found out, but I feel _wrecked_. I don't know what's up and what's down anymore."

Charlie exhales slowly and turns to Quinn, "Sometimes it's hard to remember that my life isn't the only one that he ruined," she offers.

"Rachel says that I should see someone about it, you know _talk_ to someone or join a support group or something. But I don't even know where to start. He was a monster; I didn't think he was but he _was_ a monster. He destroyed this family and all I know is that _I_ never want to be like him."

"You're not him," Charlie responds with conviction. "You're not."

Quinn makes a face, "I'm trying not to be him. I'm trying not to be judgmental, I'm trying not to be anything like him. It's difficult sometimes." She watches as Charlie goes back to cleaning the dishes and sighs. "Santana bought a ticket back to Mexico."

Charlie freezes for a moment before shaking her head, "I figured that she'd do that. She said her goodbyes. Don't worry she's not going to bother us again."

Quinn made a face at this. "When I look at her, I see part of the reason that you were kidnapped. I get angry when I think about what she put you through. I hate her, I hate her so fucking much."

"I know. You don't need to rehash everything Quinn. I know what Santana did to me, I know what she is, I know all that."

"Yet she makes you happy," it's a simple statement of fact. "You don't hate her do you?"

Charlie stops what she's doing and turns to Quinn. "No. I don't."

"Why? I just can't understand why? What is it about her makes you—that makes you love her? She did _horrible_ things to you—she did _unforgivable_ things to you." Quinn tosses the clipboard onto the bar and stares at Charlie. "I just want to understand why."

"I don't think I can explain it to you, not in words, not in pictures. I can tell you that she was there for me at my worst moments I guess. Maybe some of it was some form of Stockholm Syndrome. At least it started out that way, but she tried to protect me in her own fucked up way. Because Santana Lopez is one fucked up person, which is fine because I'm fucked up too." Charlie admits. "But, I'm not going to chase after her. If that's what you think. Even though I'm fucked up, I just want something _normal_."

"A white picket fence and two and a half kids?"

Charlie crinkled her nose, "No. I want to go live on a beach somewhere working at a bar or something and learning how to surf. Maybe a dog or two. That sounds _boring_ Quinn."

Quinn rolls her eyes, only Charlie would say that the American dream was _boring_. "Well, it's what me and Rachel are trying to do."

"Rachel wants a white picket fence?"

"Well no, neither do I. But I just want to be normal and if that means I stay at home and watch the kids then so be it." Quinn shrugs and bites her lip. "You can't tell anyone—"

"Quinn, I have no friends. Who the hell am I going to tell?"

Quinn continues as if Charlie hadn't spoken, "We're going to start fertility treatments next year. We're going to start trying for kids."

"I don't babysit," Charlie said immediately. "So we're clear. I'm not free babysitting."

Quinn laughs and wraps her arms around Charlie who immediately struggles to get free. "Fine."

Charlie relaxes for a bit and turns when she hears the door opening, "We're not opened yet—" Charlie stops staring at Santana who was rubbing the back of her neck. A white bag which looked as if it was dripping grease was in her free hand. "I thought you were going back to Mexico."

Santana tilted her head to Quinn who was glaring at her, "I was. But. I figured that we could have some Fatburger together, you always wanted me to go with you there didn't you? I mean I think it's a heart attack in a bag but—" Santana shifts her feet, this was _humiliating_.

"I—" Charlie pauses, the bag of food looked absolutely delicious, and she had always wanted to see Santana eat a greasy burger. It was tempting but—she glances at Quinn.

Quinn sighed and waved her hand, "Go and have lunch, but be back by the time we open." She rolls her eyes when Charlie puts down the glass and immediately scampers off to be with Santana. It bothered her, but she needed to be more accepting of Charlie's terrible life choices.


	26. Chapter 26

**Reviews make the world go round, I've decided that next week I'll post the rest of Hellfire Issue One, I'll also start posting HIMYM, and there will be a chapter a day of IKWYDLS. At least for thirty days, plus the end of this story.**

* * *

Santana grimaced slightly as she poked her burger, watching Charlie eat her greasy food was definitely _something_. Sebastian may have a point that Charlie would never be the trophy wife that would help her with deals in the legit world. But she was known in the criminal underworld as a snitch it was a lose lose situation. Though if she was being honest, she personally didn't care that Charlie didn't have any etiquette, or that she had ketchup on her chin. "So—" she begins slowly watching as Charlie turns her eyes towards her. Was she just noticing now that Charlie had rather sharp eyes? "You've got a bit of ketchup on your chin," she points lamely.

Charlie puts her burger down and grabs a napkin and wipes her chin and her fingers. She watches Santana carefully for a moment, "I feel like a broken record saying this but _why_ are you here? Not that I don't appreciate the free food. But you have a ticket back to Mexico and I have to get back to work."

Santana picked up a lukewarm french fry, and nibbles it. "I thought about what you said to me. You know, about how confusing things were for you. I think I get it; I mean—I'm confused about these things as well. I mean— _shit_."

Charlie picks up her burger and takes another bite from it, chewing carefully. "You're not very good at this are you?"

Santana scowled at the criticism, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Charlie chews her burger thoughtfully, "Talking to me, like this anyway. You've never had any problem giving orders to me. But this stumbling around is odd, just say what you mean and get it over with."

"Get it over with? Fine. I _like_ you. How's that?" Santana snaps with an air of frustration.

"What?"

"That's why I'm here. I've fucking missed you. Happy?"

Charlie drops her burger and makes a face, "Why?"

Santana's jaw drops, "What do you mean why?"

"I don't know! I guess I mean why do you like me—" Charlie looks at her burger and then back at Santana "Oh. This is a date."

"Sherlock Holmes you are not," Santana mutters. "What did you think this was?"

"You buying me free food and then trying to get into my pants?" Charlie responds flatly.

"Look, whatever. This clearly was a mistake." Santana gets up, she was so done with this. "God, how could I have been so stupid?"

"Albert Einstein you are not," Charlie responds and points to her burger. "This isn't a date."

"Excuse me?"

"This isn't one of those awful romantic comedies that Puck liked to watch. I didn't agree to go to a date with you. I mean is that your thing? You tricking me into things? Not letting me know what I'm walking into?" Charlie scowls and points to the burger no longer in the mood to eat it. "This isn't a _date_. I didn't agree to go on a date with you."

"No you just want to go on random dates with strangers and fuck them," Santana snaps bitterly.

"Well at least they fucking ask me!" Charlie retorts. "At least they fucking ask me like a normal person and there isn't some secret game that I'm not aware of. How hard is it for you to ask me out on a date, and take me somewhere fun and then bitch about how you're paying for everything because I'm _broke_? And then because you're you and you're the most frustrating person on the planet, try and get into my pants, or at least make me give you a blowjob in the car."

Santana stares at Charlie and clenches her hands tightly into a fist. "Because you would have said yes?" She demands.

"I probably would have said no, because you're a prick. A prick who has shitty aim and doesn't go down on me," Charlie responds.

"See? This is why I can't ask you things. Because everything's a damn joke to you." Santana stood. "I fucking can't even work anymore because I'm hung up on _you_. It's pathetic and stupid and _lonely_ but I listened to everybody who said that if I just asked then maybe you wouldn't fucking laugh in my face. Turns out they were wrong."

Charlie's jaw drops. She hadn't expected _that_. But she's not about to let Santana emotionally pull at her strings. "I don't want to date other people; I don't even know how I'm going to talk to them about half the shit that went on with me. ' _Hey, I'm Charlotte Fabray, you know the kid that was kidnapped by gang members after my father sold me out—'_ Do you see that working well for me?" Charlie asks. "I didn't think I was asking for much, a bit of romance from you. You not quitting everything three seconds when I don't immediately respond to your craziness. You taking me out on a real date where maybe I don't feel like your slut half the time. Or an afterthought or the girl you raped, and you've grown attached to. We've known each other since I was sixteen. There is still so much I don't fucking know about you, and honestly I feel like you know everything about me and I refuse to ever be in the position where I'm the weak one. You've seen me at my most vulnerable and you preyed upon it and you got off on it. You're fumbling around asking me on a date, and yes you may be vulnerable but _not_ like that. Not like I was." Charlie pushes her burger away. "My lunch break is over and I should head back before Quinn calls the FBI and tells them you kidnapped me."

Santana watches as Charlie gets up and walks away. She's tempted to let her go. To wallow in self-pity for the rest of her life. But something, whether it be indigestion or momentary insanity, makes her speak up before Charlie pushes the door open. "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

"No." Charlie retorts, pushing the door open and walking out without a backwards glance.

Santana puts her elbows on the table and lets her head fall to her hands. She doesn't know what she's going to do next. Should she go home?

Maybe this all really was hopeless.

She doesn't look up when the door chimes again that someone has come back into the diner and only moves when someone pokes her hard in the shoulder. "What?" She snaps, cringing when she looks up to see Charlie staring at her.

Charlie smirks, seemingly proud to have caught Santana off guard. "Maybe ask me tomorrow. And if that doesn't work, maybe keep asking till I finally say yes."

Santana blinks and watches as Charlie walks right back out. She could certainly do that. Of course that meant staying stateside for a long time. Which was fine, she could get Sebastian over here and then start making plays at being legit. All while attempting to win Charlie over, it probably wouldn't take long. Charlie was probably trying to take a stance. She'd give it a month tops.

~O~

"Okay."

"Alright, I'll ask you tomorrow." Santana groans. She had been wrong, and over confident. This had taken far longer than a _month_ , in fact she was sure that they were closing in on a year, since she had begun asking Charlie out daily.

Charlie studies Santana carefully raising a brow, she's about to repeat what she had said when the phone rings. She holds up a finger asking Santana to wait quietly as she picks up the phone, "Welcome to—"

' _Why the fuck is your phone off?_ '

Charlie pulls the phone away from her ear. "Because you've been a paranoid bitch for the past few months, and if you're not doing that you won't shut up about the damn baby. Also I'm _working_ , you know that thing that you haven't done in forever because of some lame reason about how you can't be around alcohol." Charlie snaps back. Charlie glances at Santana who is tapping her hands on the bar.

 _'_ _The baby is coming!'_

Charlie stares at the phone for a moment, "I'm not a doctor Quinn, I'm not a midwife. The only things I _know_ about childbirth, is what I learned from television and two, that I want absolutely no part of it. Go to a hospital, and do your whole plan. I'll meet you there. Goodbye Quinn."

' _Charlie wait_ —'

" _Oh_ and don't forget to breathe. I'm not talking to Rachel by the way, you. I don't think Rachel will appreciate you blowing a vessel on the day of your child's birth. It would be very selfish of you." Charlie adds before ending the call and turning her attention back to Santana. "We've got to go."

" _We_? Your sister _hates_ me. I mean the feeling is mutual but why do I need to go and see this fucking lizard-hobbit hybrid anklebiter?" Santana asks petulantly.

Charlie rolls her eyes; it still hadn't registered with Santana but she didn't really have time for this. Quinn had been—well not exactly happy about the fact that Santana was sticking around. But at least now she was threatening to call the FBI every other day. "Yes but that anklebiter is going to be my niece and or nephew."

"You don't know? Oh you mean they wanted to be one of those parents who wanted it to be a surprise?"

"No. They told me I just can't remember. Rachel wouldn't shut up about different type of births, and giving me books on how to be an aunt, and how to childproof my place." Charlie waved her hand and studies Santana carefully. "You don't have to come in with me if you don't want, I just need a ride."

"Is this what it's come to? You bumming rides off me?" Santana grumbles grabbing her keys and her jacket. It was exhausting waiting for Charlie to say yes. There were days when she truly didn't think that Charlie would, they hadn't had sex, and she couldn't read Charlie's face whenever she showed up to ask her out. She had tried _everything_ , done everything to be romantic. Flowers, chocolates, military grade weapons—everything she could think of and yet Charlie had never said yes.

Charlie tossed her towel onto the counter, she was lucky it was late and there was no one that she needed to kick out. Well there was Santana, but she did actually need a ride, the hospital was all the way across town. "Yes. How else am I supposed to go on a date with you? Though given the circumstances I imagine that it'll have to wait." Charlie mused.

"You could start by saying yes to a date!" Santana retorts throwing her hands up in the air. "I mean what the _fuck_ Charlie? What the fuck? A _year_? Sebastian thinks you're just stringing me along."

Charlie rolled her eyes at this statement, "Santana I need you to go over our conversation from the moment that you walked through that door. While you do that I'm going to be closing up."

But Santana steps in front of Charlie, blocking her path. "No. I'm not going to re-think our conversation because you think I was a dick. I want to do all of that stupid stuff with you, like holding hands and shit—"

"Okay."

"—but you won't even give me the time of day! I like you Charlie. A lot. An embarrassing amount. But I'm not going to go with you to the hospital just so that your twin can threaten to call the police on me."

"Quinn isn't going to call the cops on you. Baby brain or something, just I don't know—don't kidnap her child and she'll probably not notice that you're there." Charlie points out and turns so she can face Santana. "Also, because you have this thing where you don't _really_ listen to me. I'm _pretty_ sure I said okay. As in you can pick me up at seven, and maybe text me what to wear."

Santana stumbles and stares at Charlie as it _finally_ registers. "You said yes?"

"I said okay," Charlie shrugged. She had needed to remind herself that she could say no to Santana without consequences. Sure Santana whined about it and bitched about it, and true she had been testing Santana to see if she would stick around, but this had also been hard for her. She needed to see Santana in a new light and while she knew they could _never_ start again; this would simply have to do. "Please tell me that you at least _have_ a place in mind."

"Of course I do. I've been planning this for months." Santana sputters, her mind still reeling. "But—you said _yes?_ Really?"

"I said okay." Charlie laughs. "So why don't you just think about that while I close up here and we can go see the baby?"

Santana nods, as she finally replays what Charlie said in her head. She looks up at her and raises a brow a slow smirk on her face. "Really I can text you what to wear?"

Charlie turned to Santana and narrowed her eyes, "You know I can still say no if you decide to be weird about this. I meant if I need to wear something formal or heels or something."

Santana bit back the snarky reply that was at the tip of her tongue. She instead runs a hand through her hair, "Fine. Fine, let's go see the damn ankle biter. I should buy the damn thing a fucking toy or something—you do have a gift for the thing right?"

"No? Should I? It's a baby, they eat and shit and cry."

Santana frowned, "Valid point, but I think your sister expects you to care that she and the hobbit reproduced, buy it a stuffed bear or something. We'll stop by the gift store and get some balloons."

"What would I do without you?" Charlie said with a roll of her eyes, blinking when Santana takes her hand.

"That's the case I've been making for an entire year, and you say that _I'm the_ dick."

"You _are_ a dick. I just don't think I'm any better."

~O~

The smile on Quinn's face faded a moment when she noticed Charlie leaning against Santana, holding a balloon and what looked to be a stuffed bear. She personally hadn't thought that Charlie would bring anything, but there she was. "Charlie?"

Charlie glanced up from where she was leaning and sat up, "Quinn? Where's the baby? The only reason I'm here is because I thought that there would be a baby."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Rachel's with her down the hall, her parents are already on their way so you get to be the first one to see her. Room 512, down the hall and take a left, it's the first door on the right. She's _tiny_ Charlie, but she's got ten toes and ten fingers, and she might be a singer like her mom."

Charlie stood up and immediately headed past Quinn to go and find the baby, she would say her congrats and then she was going home to sleep.

Santana gets up and goes to follow her only to have Quinn step in front of her, it's enough to get her to smirk. "I'm guessing; I'm not allowed to see your little ankle biter?"

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm dating your sister," Santana responds her smirk growing. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

"Dating? Hardly. More like stalking. How many times does she have to say no before you leave her alone?"

"Well, I was asking that myself the same question earlier but then she said yes. So who the fuck knows? Who cares? We're like _family_ now tubbers!" This was _definitely_ the best part of this whole thing. She got to torment Quinn with her presence.

Quinn's face falls, paling. "She didn't."

"She did." Santana beams. "Like I said we're like _family now_."

Quinn shudders and narrows her eyes, "Be that as a may, you're never going to be invited to dinners, or any celebrations that we have. And you're not allowed anywhere near my _daughter_."

"Charlie is—"

"Messed up, because of what you did to her. Because of what my father did to her, but if you think that I'm going to allow my daughter to look at your relationship and see it as healthy, when both of you would admit that it isn't, well you're an idiot." Quinn hissed. She inhales sharply, "Besides _dating_ doesn't mean that you're going to be a permanent fixture in her life."

"We'll have to see what Charlie says about that."

"Charlie says that you both need to stop trying to see who has the biggest dick. Quinn it _certainly_ isn't you." Charlie says dryly and turns her attention to Santana. "Also you really need stop trying to get under her skin. By that I mean stop using _me_ to do it. Because if you two are going to keep fighting over me and trying to protect me, then I'm not going to talk to either of you. Rachel's asleep by the way, so I just left the balloon and the bear on the little table thing beside her bed. You have a—cute baby Quinn, it's a—"

"Girl. I told you this. She's wearing a _pink_ hat." Quinn interrupts with a frustrated sigh.

"They all look the same when they're just born, who knows it could have been a boy. You could have been making a statement. It seems like something Rachel would do." Charlie responds shaking her head. "We'll come back later—I'll come back later today, but right now I _really_ have to sleep you should be with Rachel and—what's her name?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes, "Seriously?"

"Well I assumed you would tell me since your wife was asleep, and we could share a drink from the flask I brought but you decided to stay out here and have a pissing contest with Santana. How is this _my fault_?"

"Because you're dating _her_. You said _yes_ to _her_?"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "I said okay."

"We're going to play paintball and then go to this diner that's gotten rave reviews nearby, don't worry I'll have her back by eleven." Santana winks at Quinn who wheels towards her.

Charlie sighs, and steps between them. They would probably never really get along but they would have to learn to live with each other. "I'll stop by tomorrow Quinn, I promise."

"Without her?"

"Without her," Charlie promises. "I'll take an Uber."

Quinn nods, deciding not to point out that Charlie didn't trust the ride-sharing app. She shoots one last glare at Santana, "Okay—thank you. Rachel is probably going to feel a bit bad that she missed you but, go sleep. You look like you need it." Quinn bites her lip. "I have a baby."

Charlie sighed and pulled a flask out of her pocket. "Scotch," she mumbles and hands it over to Quinn. "Cigars are gross."

Quinn chews her lip for a minute before shaking her head. She can't shake the feeling that she needs to be at her best, just in case. She's her family's protector and she's not going to let the evil that ruined Charlie's life gets anywhere close to her daughter.

Charlie smirks. "So you're going to be _that_ mom. Your baby's going to love you. I'm going to have to be the cool aunt or she's never going to get to do anything." Charlie patted Quinn's shoulder. "Well I need to sleep. Goodnight Quinn. Say goodnight to your daughter for me. Come on Santana, you're driving me home."

Santana scowled at this, "I am not your personal taxi," she bitches as she turns to follow Charlie. "I mean at least give me a blow job or something if you're going to be bossing me around."

Quinn closed her eyes and counted to fifty, before turning back to head in and spend time with Rachel and their new child. She would only think positive things, and her daughter was the most positive thing in her life since finding Charlie. She could finally be happy; her life was finally stitching together in the _perfect_ way.


	27. Chapter 27

Santana exhaled and glanced at Charlie, she hadn't said anything since they had gotten in the car. That didn't bode well, she had _thought_ that it would have been fun to maybe have Charlie work out her issues in a non-lethal way but she had been far too good against the other team. Like a war zone, something that was supposed to be relaxing had seemed to trigger something in Charlie. Dinner hadn't gone any better and she was at her wits end. She had been planning this for months and after painstaking consideration had thought this would be perfect. This was why she simply _didn't_ date. It never went well for her.

She sighs and pulls her car down a familiar street, finally pulling her car to a stop in front of Charlie's bar.

It takes a minute for Charlie to register where they are and that alone is proof that Charlie's head isn't in this. "What are we doing here?"

"I'm giving you an out if you want it." Santana explains simply.

Charlie's eyes narrow. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You're just giving up?"

"I'm not giving up. I'm giving _in._ I _mean_ that I'm not going to force you to be here. Clearly paintball was a shitty fucked up idea and I'm _sorry_ because I swear I thought it was going to be fun."

"Who says I'm not having fun?"

"I'm not an idiot, Charlie." Santana arches her brow, daring Charlie to disagree. "You're having a terrible time, so I'm letting you off the hook. You don't _owe_ me anything. And if you want me to keep asking you out, I will. If you want me to get lost so that you and Quinn and the Hobbit and the Lizard-Ankle-Biter can be happy, I'll do it."

Charlie studied Santana, "The date was _fine_. Fun even."

Santana scowled, "You don't have to _lie_ to me."

"I'm not lying to you Santana. It was my very _first_ date. So it's not like I have plenty of experiences to compare it too. I _did_ have fun."

"Then why do you look like I just kicked your puppy?" Santana demands.

Charlie makes a face, "Because I'm really good at it aren't I?"

"Paintball?"

"Killing people." Charlie replied.

"Did you _kill someone?_ " Santana asked before realizing what Charlie was attempting to say. "Oh. You were a soldier—a good one, a mouthy one but a good one nonetheless and you don't _do_ that anymore. And it's not like you did kill someone. You shot some losers with paintballs, in rather amusing ways. You took them out quickly and efficiently. I mean—you would be here bitching if your skills had deteriorated to the point where you couldn't take out some nerds."

"True," Charlie mused.

"Also given the money that I invested into turning you into a soldier, I'd be pissed too." Santana adds, she can't _truly_ help herself, and she shrugs when Charlie shoots her a look. "What? You know it's true."

"I thought your father paid for it because you're incredibly cheap." Charlie points out.

"Well—it was _my_ idea."

"It was a stupid idea, I had every intention of coming back and killing everyone in that building when I first started. I dreamed about it for weeks." Charlie pointed out. "Probably why your father drafted me, to begin with. To save _your_ life."

Santana opened her mouth and then closed it and sunk down in her seat, she hadn't thought of the possibility that Charlie would simply come back and exact her revenge. "I see." There was an awkward pause between them and Santana inhales, "You don't have to kill for me anymore. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, you can do whatever you want—"

"Except I can't." Charlie sighs. She was stuck in a dead-end job doing something that she hated, sleeping very little because the bar was barely above water. She wanted to run away and try again, until she found what was right for her. But she couldn't saddle Quinn with the bar. "No one told me that having responsibilities would _suck_ this much."

Santana snorted, "Tell me about it, no one told me that going legit would be _this_ difficult. But clearly it _is_. Do you know how many people I make uncomfortable? How hard it is for me to get my businesses up and running. If Sebastian wasn't there—" Santana makes a face. "They know about my father; no one _really_ wants to get into bed with me."

Charlie was quiet for a moment, "You're wrong about the last part."

Santana blinked and looked at Charlie a slow smirk crossing her lips, "I would, but Sebastian informed me that we have to do three of these things before we have sex."

Charlie rolled her eyes, "As for your optics problem. What you need to do is get a face for your company. Someone who _knows_ these people, and can talk to them and they trust. No one wants to do business with you because they think you're going to launder dirty money through whatever company you set up or try and set up a ponzi scheme. Once you can show them that your businesses are legit, then they might start coming to the table."

Santana blinked, it wasn't a _terrible_ idea, shifting so that she could look at Charlie. "That's not a terrible idea, who do we know who has that sort of pull with these people?"

"Quinn."

The smile on Santana's face falls immediately. "Fuck. No. There's no way she'd say yes."

"She's got a new kid and she's barely making any money on the bar. The only real income is Rachel and my sister already feels guilty about that. So she might not be completely opposed to the idea, so long as you _stop_."

"Stop what? She starts it most of the time."

Charlie opened the car door and rolled her eyes, "Stop antagonizing her and telling her about the sex that we have. Because if you _don't_ stop, then I'm not going to do those sexual things to you."

" _Fine_ , anything else?" Santana replied testily.

"Fix your aim. You're like sixty—"

"I'm thirty-eight!" Santana growls, she _hated_ when Charlie did that. Charlie _knew_ she hated when she did that, Charlie was a giant _dick_ as far as she was concerned.

"Right, sure you are. Now aren't you going to walk me up?" Charlie questions.

"No, according to you I'm old and decrepit." Santana replies in a grumpy tone.

"Well, no according to me you've got this weird thing where your aim is off, despite your advanced age and the fact that I've bitched about it for years." Charlie retorts. "Now, I'm going upstairs. You're going to escort me and then we get to the door, you're going to kiss me, and then I'm going to pull you inside and we're going to have sex. It's been _forever_ since I had sex with you and I want to."

This is the wrong thing to say as Santana smirks. It had been a year for her, but she wasn't going to let Charlie run their relationship. "Admit that I'm thirty-eight and I still have it and I'll think about it."

Charlie stares at her for a moment before rolling her eyes, "Goodnight Santana," she said closing the door.

Santana's jaw drops as she watches Charlie head back to her building and fish around for her keys. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she wasn't simply going to get her way with Charlie anymore and for some odd reason that made things _hotter_. "Fine you win," she bitches as she gets to the car and jogs after Charlie who turns to look at her. There's amusement in her eyes and she slows down as she falls into stride with Charlie. "You're a—" Santana's eyes widen when Charlie leans in and kisses her deeply.

Okay—so maybe Charlie had a thing for someone older. She could work with that. And judging from how her body immediately lit up— yeah, she could definitely work with that.

~O~

Charlie groaned as she reached for the pillow to cover her ears. Personally she didn't care if it was already past one, she wanted to sleep for the rest of the day before she had to get to work. She grimaces as she feels the cool side of the bed. Her space heater was gone. It wasn't her fault that Santana's body was so damn warm.

Santana of course took offense to being compared to a simple bed-warmer but it was an apt description as far as she was concerned. It had been two years since she finally stopped pretending like she was going to say no to Santana forever, but she still wasn't about to change her mind anytime soon. She was fine with the status quo.

The doorbell rings again and Charlie puts together that sound was the one which had so rudely woken her. Her apartment isn't large by any means and there are realistically only a few people who would come to her door unannounced. Despite all of that, Charlie _really_ doesn't want to get up so she burrows herself into her pillows and wraps her blankets tightly around her in an attempt to will herself back to sleep.

But it's all in vain when Santana softly opens the door to stave off the assault on her doorbell. Charlie's hope that Santana will tell the intruders to fuck off evaporates when she hears her niece's high pitched squeal. "Tana!"

"Pipsqueak!" Santana matches Beth's excitement and traitorously let's them into Charlie's apartment.

To the surprise of everyone, Beth is Santana's biggest fan. The two of them are thick as thieves, something that irritates Quinn to no end even though she can begrudgingly admit that she benefits from far too much free babysitting.

"I know it's last minute but—" Quinn mutters, this was Rachel's idea. Something about making sure that Beth knew that she had a decent family or something like that. "Can you watch her for a few hours? I have a meeting and—"

Santana smirked at Quinn, "Sure, I think she's finally old enough to hold a—"

"Santana, do _not_. Do you know how long it took me to make her stop swearing like a sailor? She nearly got kicked out of pre-school for being a terrible influence!" Quinn hisses at her. "I do _not_ want her playing with guns, I do not want her to even know what they are. My daughter isn't going to grow up to be a gangbanger."

"Well I hope not, she's so much better than a porn star," Santana quips.

Quinn's jaw drops and she immediately covers Beth's ears, this was what she was talking about. Santana was a terrible influence on her daughter. The _worst_. "Where's the responsible one?"

"Probably upset that I'm letting you two in the house while she's trying to sleep. I gave her a—"

"Santana!"

"—few minutes to sleep in." Santana finishes with a shit eating grin. "My, my Quinnocence, what were _you_ thinking? Maybe _you're_ the one who is a bad influence on her."

Charlie groans and forces herself to roll out of bed, quickly slipping on a shirt and some shorts. Leaving Quinn and Santana alone for too long only makes things worse. _Somehow_ they actually manage to have a decent working relationship, but out of the office the gloves come off and they bicker like children. "You're _both_ terrible influences."

Quinn symbolically hands over the diaper bag to Charlie who crosses her arms and arches her brow in a defiant challenge. Quinn likes to pretend that Charlie is the one she's trusting with Beth, but all four of them know that isn't true. With a sigh, Quinn puts the bag on the floor. "You guys have the emergency numbers?"

"Yes Quinn, because we've done this a million times even though I'm sure I made it clear to you that I don't do free babysitting."

"You don't do a lot of things," Quinn snipes back. "I mean clearly you haven't taken out the trash in two years," Quinn shoots a look at Santana. "You haven't moved out your apartment in two years, despite the fact that I know Santana has a nice apartment uptown, in a _very_ nice area. You don't even own the bar anymore, we sold it, you work in a nicer one."

Charlie narrows her eyes and turns to Santana, "Swear away. I'm going back to bed."

Quinn groans, Santana enjoyed playing with Beth, but Charlie was the one that generally kept Santana from going too far, "Sorry, sorry. I just—if you ever have kids you'll understand. You just worry about them—whether someone is going to _kidnap_ them, or if someone is a good influence—that sort of thing."

Charlie frowns at the statement, it was almost impossible to not see how Santana's eyes light up, at the idea of her having children. She was getting far too old to actually _have_ children, she knew and understands that much. Also the thought of having a _permanent_ reminder that she and Santana were tied together? It frightened her. She was finally free? Why would she exchange that for another prison? Even if Santana seemed to be the baby whisperer? If she was going to have children, which was becoming more and more unlikely as time moved on, then she wanted the child to be born into a loving family. She didn't want to have doubts. She didn't want to be one of _those_ parents. "I'm aware that you think that Santana is going to kidnap your daughter, and I'm aware that you freaked out when she came home covered in tattoos, but Santana doesn't _do_ that anymore."

"Right. I turned my life around. I found Jesus and all that. Holy Spirit, Praise be—"

"Enough." Quinn holds up her hand. "Just, be responsible. I don't care if they'll wash off eventually. No tattoos."

"Fine we'll paint the town red right Beth?" Santana grins when Beth jumps on her.

"YEAH!"

Quinn looks at Charlie hopelessly. "Don't worry, we don't have any red paint," Charlie shakes her head shooting Santana a look. She's rewarded with an innocent smile from her, it didn't quite belong on her face but she softens and shakes her head. "I promise to make sure that they don't play with fire either."

Quinn's eyes widen for a moment and she turns her attention to Santana. "Don't you _dare_."

Santana salutes Quinn in a mocking fashion and turns back to Beth. "So are you ready to have fun?"

"YEAH!"

"Good! One of these days you're going to have to come to my apartment, I have a pool and a playground nearby," Santana informs Beth, who hugs her tightly. She flicks her eyes towards Charlie for months she'd been trying to get Charlie to move into her bigger apartment. But Charlie was dead set in dying in this shitty apartment where half the appliances didn't work. She was tempted to burn the place down so Charlie would be forced to rely on her for something. Fortunately, Sebastian had tamed that idea before she had bought the accelerant.

It was _fucking difficult,_ living by Charlie's rules half the time. Charlie dipped and waned and even though they had been dating for two years, Charlie still referred to her as a bed warmer. Any talk of children generally ended up with Charlie avoiding the conversation by changing the subject. She wanted kids, and she knew that Charlie did too—just not with her.

It _hurt_. Though she _understood_ it. She understood Charlie far better than she had before. Charlie simply wouldn't talk about it. And instead of moping around about it, she _needed_ to find a solution. Surrogacy seemed the best option on the table and she could afford it, and maybe if Charlie saw that they could create something— _perfect_ together then they could finally move in their relationship. It was something that they'd _both_ have to agree on, and right now she didn't see any hope in Charlie finally being okay with it until she really was an old lady.

~O~

The problem doesn't just go away, despite how much she wished it to. In fact, it gets worse the longer she avoids it, thanks in large part to Rachel's good intentions. Anybody with eyes can see how much Santana adores Beth and it isn't long until Rachel tries to meddle.

"You know; Beth would love to have a cousin. It would be good for her, don't you think? Kids her age especially need a lot of companionship."

"I think I would rather buy her a dog." Quinn mutters.

Rachel gently slaps her wife on the arm. Turning her attention back to Charlie and Santana, she smiles. "There are many fertility options on the table— I noticed that you were looking at surrogacy."

Charlie narrowed her eyes, "We're doing what now?" She tilts her head toward Santana who doesn't exactly have the decency to meet her gaze. "Santana?"

Santana cuts into her food, debating on whether she could get away with stabbing the loud mouth. "I have no idea what you're talking about—"

"If you want to have children Santana, I've never said you couldn't. I'm pretty sure I made it clear that it was never going to be with me," Charlie interrupts.

Quinn flicked her eyes between the two of them for a moment, when they fought which was surprisingly rare given the circumstances it _usually_ ended up with them both becoming irritable and generally meant that she got the brunt of it. "Rachel, I know you want to help but offering yourself as the surrogate is _weird_ and obviously they haven't talked about it." Quinn whispered to Rachel.

"Well it would certainly be cheaper than—" Rachel whispers back.

"I don't want to get random women pregnant, my father would insist I marry her so I don't have a bastard. A surrogacy means that you never have to be pregnant, which is something I _know_ you didn't want to begin with. I mean it doesn't need to be now, I can wait a few years until you're ready and—"

"Again, if you want to get another woman pregnant then that's perfectly fine with me, you're only my bed warmer," Charlie snaps childishly.

Santana's eyes narrow at the comment, trying to keep the irritation and hurt off her face. Their relationship was moving at a snail's pace. If she hadn't noted the jealousy in Charlie's voice, she would have simply told Charlie that she was going to and let that fester in her head for a while till Charlie simply told her what she needed to say. "Right, and you're simply a great fuck who I happened to be attached to," Santana responds her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"With that I think Rachel and I are going to leave—" Quinn says grabbing Rachel's arm.

"Quinn! _No_! This is brilliant, this is going to help me win my Academy Award!" Rachel hisses back. Emulating both Charlie and Santana at different points in her career had already netted her four Emmy Awards.

Quinn resisted the urge to bang her head against the table, she was surrounded by _crazy_. "Rachel."

Santana put down her fork and knife, "Seriously Charlie what the fuck do you want? Cause half the time I don't think it's me. I'm trying here, I'm really fucking trying to make sure that I don't step on the multitude of cracks. You know how I feel about you and you know that I've always wanted kids—"

"I told you, that you could go and get someone else pregnant. I _don't_ care." Charlie repeats herself childishly this was _not_ going well, but she wasn't going to admit that the thought of Santana having kids with someone else bothered her. It didn't mean that she wanted to have Santana's kids either.

"Bullshit. I made a comment about another woman's ass and you didn't talk to me for two days and you didn't open up your door. So again _what the hell_ do you want Charlie? If you want me to shut up and just be your bed warmer—"

"What I want is to live on a beach somewhere, learning how to surf and owning my own little bar that makes a bunch of money because it's a tourist stop and I can overcharge them for shitty alcohol. What I want is for those two to stop using me for free babysitting," Charlie points to Quinn and Rachel.

"We don't use you as free babysitting, we use Santana you're just supposed to supervise to make sure that Santana doesn't turn our daughter into a criminal," Quinn responds with a sniff only to be elbowed by Rachel. "Seriously?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Is that all? I can easily move us to the coast and give you what you want, and maybe then we can leave your cramped apartment. I get it, the whole place makes you feel safe because it's yours. I get that's why you don't want to move into my place, because it's my place. You don't want me to help you fail or succeed though, and you've made that abundantly clear. You got mad at me for buying you a car so you could get around on your own. You want to be independent, you made that abundantly clear but we're in a relationship whether you want to call it that or not. So let's try this again, what do you want from me?"

"What I want? What I want is to not feel guilty for being in love with you." Charlie snaps bitterly before realizing what she said when a shit eating grin appears on Santana's face.

"You _love me_. Which means I'm more than just a bed warmer." Santana immediately holds up her hand. "No take backs."

"What are you, five?" Quinn scoffs.

Santana shrugs, "No, but this is mostly _your_ fault. This wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't said anything."

"I'm sorry are we going to pretend that you didn't have my sister kidnapped and did unspeakable things to her for a part of her development?" Quinn retorts. "My loyalty has never been to _you_ and quite frankly I think Charlie could do much better, at least someone who isn't half as irritating as you."

"You'd miss my sunny personality." Santana smirks. "But this isn't about you and me _Tubbers_ , this is about me and your sister. Who finally admitted in front of all of you that I'm not just a fuck buddy, that she puts up with." Santana turns her attention back to Charlie. "You love me."

"Not at this moment I don't," Charlie mutters but Santana's grin only gets wider. "It doesn't change—"

"Who the fuck cares what Quinn thinks? Or anyone else thinks, all that matters is what you think," Santana interrupts. "I feel guilty for a lot of things."

"Bullshit," Quinn coughs.

"Quinn! Shush! This is romantic."

"She's a sociopath. She doesn't feel guilty about _anything_." Quinn rolls her eyes.

Charlie eyed Santana carefully, "The things you feel guilty about are only because you get caught," Charlie admits. "Like a few nights ago, you _felt_ guilty about that. I just—why can't things remain the same?"

"Because you _admitted_ you love me. Fuck, Charlie, why do you think I stuck around all this time? I _love_ you. I've _known_ you love me. I just never thought you'd say it out loud. We've been together for two fucking years. I'm not going away anytime soon."

"There are days that I want to push you into traffic," Charlie admits. "I'm not sure if that's because you annoy the shit out of me or because I hate you."

"Probably the irritation," Quinn mutters, she gets elbowed in the ribs by Rachel once more. "What? You know it's true."

"—And I'm not sure if I want something as _permanent_ as a child. I mean what if I do push you into traffic? What will I tell them?"

"That she deserved it?" Quinn can't help herself and Rachel throws up her hands in frustration.

Santana paused for a moment, "Well, we don't have to start with a baby? I mean—it doesn't have to be permanent?"

"What you want to start with a hamster?" Charlie asks.

"No, I mean—there are thousands of children out there that aren't wanted, maybe we make the decision to freeze your eggs or something, and try our hand at that and you can look back in a few years and make the choice. Preferably before I turn sixty."

"I thought you were already—" Charlie pauses when Santana squeezes her hand. "No one in their right mind is going to give us children to look after."

"Your sister does."

"I said no one in their right mind," Charlie reminds her.

"True," Santana muses and looks at Quinn, "You're right—but we're not criminals anymore. I've gone legit, I'm rich—someone will probably give us a teenager."

Quinn opened her mouth and Rachel immediately slapped her hand over Quinn's mouth. "I'm sure Quinn will make some calls for you and help you out, and point you in the right direction."

Quinn shot Rachel a look but her wife only raised a brow causing her to nod. "Right."

Charlie frowns, "I don't want to just—I don't know give them up either if it doesn't work out—"

"We won't," Santana promises. "But there's no way that they are going to give us a kid if we live in your shitty little apartment. And I get why you don't want to just move into my apartment—so maybe we look for a place together? Something we can both live with. You pay whatever you can towards rent and I'll pay as well. You know like adults. I mean—"

"Yeah. I like that," Charlie nods, this was easy and maybe she didn't hate Santana enough to ever do her harm. Unless of course Santana attempted to put it up her butt again when she wasn't in the mood, then all bets were off.

Santana sighs and glances over at Quinn and Rachel, before leaning in. "Why are they still here? Can't they see we're having a moment?" It was a breakthrough, a big one and hopefully not the last one. Quinn was _wrong_ , she did regret it. She regretted it every single day that she had _broken_ and remodeled Charlie into something she really wasn't. She _was_ lucky that Charlie even gave her the time of day at all. That Charlie blamed Russell for her lot in life, more than she blamed her. There were a lot of things to be thankful for. There was a lot of things that she needed to do and that she would need to continue to work for, but at least she would be taking another step forward with Charlie.

* * *

 **AN: And this is where it ends. I know you probably want to know if they have kids, and how it goes. But that's a story for another time. Or something. Anyway Review.**


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